


The Brock and Jack Situation (Hunger of the Pine HH extras)

by kalika_999



Series: Sleeplessly Embracing You [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, First Time, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Non-Chronological, Old Married Couple, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9691937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Situations revolving around Jack and Brock behind the scenes in the Hunger of the Pine AU.  All tags in the main story count here as well.





	1. Chapter 25 - Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the morning after the Christmas party at Nat's place (Chapter 25)

It hadn’t been anything new when he woke up on his back with Brock’s face pressed into his chest. 

No matter how much he didn’t admit to it, Rumlow definitely liked to be a cuddler in bed. When Jack pointed it out he generally shot back that Jack was too big for the bed so he was probably adjusting to using Jack as a pillow in his sleep; if anything he should shrink to accommodate. 

It made no sense but he just learned to roll with it. 

Right now, unless he wanted to shove that face off he was stuck there with the need to take a piss and nothing could be done about it. Unfortunately Brock was also a drooler, a wet spot seeping through his t-shirt and cooling against his skin, warm breath washing over it before eventually it was replaced with warm drool again. He poked him lightly on the forehead and the male grumbled with an angry crinkle of brows before easing back to sleep. Jack smirked and did it again, this time a hand absently waved at his face before it rested back on his chest.

“Brock.”

Nothing.

“Brock get off me. Your dead weight is comparable to a whale.”

Still nothing.

Jack stared at that face aiming to jab at this nose this time except he didn’t, lightly brushing fingers over one cheekbone and sighing to himself. He shook his head and changed tactics shoving at his shoulder roughly a few times before Brock was jarred from sleep and making confused sleepy noises as he rolled off him.

“W-what? Jack?”

“Sleepin’ on me again, I gotta piss.”

Brock blinked a couple times as he thought about it before settling under the covers, head and all, “Fuck you.”

That was as close to a good morning as he was getting today, pulling off his wet patched t-shirt as he strode to the bathroom and slammed the door closed behind him, planning on a shower.

He came out finding Brock groaning against the couch and bundled in warmer clothes, sunglasses on as he tried to drink a bottle of orange juice.

“Hey.”

Rumlow raised his head, exhaling sharply before dropping it back down, “I feel like shit, what I fuckin’ drink last night?”

Jack changed before he joined him on the couch, another protest coming from the opposite end when he did it, “You drank beers all afternoon, some boozed up eggnog and shots too, some wine but mainly the beers.”

“Why you gotta let me do that?”

Shrugging, Jack picked up the remote off the table and flipped through the television, “If you didn’t stay drunk you woulda been brooding about Steve all night and picking fights with him instead of having fun.”

Brock made a small disagreeable noise but didn’t say anything, finding his phone on the coffee table and flipping through it.

“What the fuck..”

“What?”

The phone was practically shoved in his face, a video of Brock and the mistletoe hat incident coming up because someone happened to unlock and make sure he had a precious memory of it. He was pretty sure that was Bucky’s doing.

“You do this?”

“Yeah because clearly telling them to put the hat on my head and have you try to sexually harass me was my idea.” Jack rolled his eyes, shoving the arm away. A smirk appeared across his features because he was a dick and he couldn’t help himself, “Looks like you did wanna make out with me though. At least you got your way.”

The phone hit the side of his face before he could really react to it, only making him laugh harder because yeah, he knew he was an ass.

Leaning over to retrieve the phone, Rollins thumbed through Brock’s images, showing him the kiss on their lips tossing it into his friend’s lap, “That’s all you.”

“I gotta delete these.”

Jack only shrugged, going back to TV.

“Jackie?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t try to, you know, fuck around with ya did I?”

“No Brock, you passed out the second you got into the back of the cab. I had to drag your sorry ass all the way here and dump you on the bed.”

“Thank God.”

Rollins could only smirk, turning to look over at him leaning back boneless against the couch with his head dropped back and sunglasses still over his eyes. He shook his head, pulling himself up to go into the small kitchenette so he could grab a bottle of water and some pain reliever pills. 

He came back pressing two of them into Brock’s palm and placing the bottle on the table, “I’m thinking of making Krupnik for dinner.” 

Brock closed his hand over the medication, tilting his head to his other side before popping them in his mouth and taking in some more orange juice groaning lowly, “Is that the barley soup you gave me last time?”

“Yeah,” Jack let out as he began to work on a shopping list at the kitchen table, “The little market a block down should be open for a few more hours, I’ll go get the ingredients from there.”

Humming in agreement, Rumlow nodded, “You should make Krupnik for dinner.” 

“You should go back to sleep.” 

“Can’t fuckin’ move.”

“You were strong enough to throw your phone at me but you can’t get off your ass to walk about ten feet? I live in a studio apartment Brock.” 

Jack watched him only slide further down along the couch, arms folded over his chest. He shrugged it off because what else could he really do. He tore the sheet off his note pad and tugged on his overcoat, “I’ll be back, don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

Brock finally pulled himself off the couch and murmured something to himself scrolling through his phone like his friend didn’t even exist. Jack wondered why he even bothered, shuffling his feet into shoes before leaving the apartment.

Stacking the pillows together and burying himself under two blankets, Brock swiped through numerous photos of last night with a majority of them unfocused or blurry, deleting all the useless ones as he went along. 

He came back to the video, watching it as the sound echoed throughout the studio space of small snickers which confirmed it was Bucky filming and very faint murmuring in the background. Brock still couldn’t believe he didn’t remember any of _what_ he was doing to Jack, brows furrowed in and trying to really understand what his drunk self was trying for. 

He ran through it a couple more times, thumb finally hitting the delete button. A confirmation box popped up, browns looking up suspiciously as he took a second to peer around the room before he turned off his phone instead, settling under the covers to get some more sleep.


	2. Chapter 27 - Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the New Year's fireworks at Nat's place (Chapter 27)

Jack stared out the window, thick and reinforced, half of it obscured by brick steps to the basement door of the brownstone but he could see the sky just fine. Absently he watched a few stray premature fireworks randomly hitting the clear dark sky with a cup of tea preoccupying his hands, sitting squarely in the center of a faded battered loveseat that had definitely seen better days. An old bed sheet draped over it to cover oils and paints as well as bits of clay stained into the upholstery. Low music played in the background and he stretched long legs out, smiling to himself, Lucky napping with his head on one thigh while he curled himself at one side. 

The basement door opened with a faint creak and then closed, footsteps making their way over in heavy purposeful steps. Jack assured everyone he was okay, they should all stay up bundled in their winter coats on the porch to watch the show on the stoop or hell join the small block gathering at the park.

The not so mysterious person sat themselves down in the only free space, a tight but comfortable squeeze for all three of them together in the darkness waiting for the New Years celebrations with most of the sound tramped out.

Brock wiggled his phone, “Buck said I outta keep him updated, worryin’ about you..even though him and Johnny were makin’ out like kids so I don’t think he’ll be on his phone any time soon.”

Jack smiled, feeling eyes on him before he turned his head and nodded, “I’m alright, don’t ruin your evening on my account. I won’t freak out, a few tests shots on the street didn’t phase me, it’s quiet enough that it’s like the TV’s playing ‘em.”

Brock stared at his face like he was trying to make sure, Lucky lazily yawned dropping his head further along Rollins’ thigh as he went back to sleep and Jack only shrugged at his best friend like that was a valid detection of his truth telling. 

“Yeah well, New Years is a crock of shit. I don’t need to see fireworks like I ain’t ever seen ‘em before. I’m fine ‘ere.”

Letting him do as he pleased, Jack turned back to look out the half obscured by wall and railings window waiting out for the fun to start and drinking down the last bit from his cup before it was back on the card table propped up at the side. Brock typed away on his phone for a few minutes, slouching down like he usually did lost in a conversation before it slipped back into his pocket glancing outside as he dropped his head back against the couch and sighed out.

“If you’re bored you can go hang out Brock, I’m fine here. Just wanna see them not hear much of them. Lucky is staying with me and- ”

“It’s another new fresh year.” Brock interrupted all casual without even looking his way.

“What?” Jack looked over and Brock was casually watching the night sky like it was fascinating to him, his peacoat sat open barely hanging off his shoulders still in a rumpled black tank top and torn faded jeans. His elbow rested on the couch’s arm, the back of his nail lightly picking between his teeth as the glow of the outside washed over his face.

“Another year for you Jackie.”

Green eyes glanced away with an absent nod. He could have said something with it but he only let Brock run his course. To anyone else it sounded like it was for him but this was solely Brock expressing himself. This verbalizing of a fresh slate, a restart of the calendar, another year where Jack wasn’t six feet under. He was just plagued with minor nightmares and pains, a body acting like it had a mind of its damn own and only down to half his sight. It was better than dead he supposed, keeping the thoughts to himself as he sat in the near silent dark.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they both waited, Lucky was their first alert for Jack to cautiously prepare, ears perking as he raised his head and made a small sound as he looked out the window. Jack pressed a hand against the crown of his head, giving the canine a soft scratch between ears and under his muzzle, his free hand occupied with petting one of Lucky’s front paws and then the sky began to light up with a starburst of green, blue and red, instead of loud bangs and bursts of noise it filtered around them in soft pops and shrill faint screams. 

The room was illuminated in magical color and Jack felt himself smiling at how pleasantly nice this was, quietly reveling in watching the way the sky was a rainbow across the black canvas sky and that he was grateful of not losing this little bit of wonderment.

He rested a hand against the couch, his other Lucky licked at the fingers of before settling his head back down on his thigh, both relaxed and anxiety tapered away. A few moments passed in silence between him and Brock, another explosion of blue glitter rained down outside. Brock bumped knees beside him, Jack’s hand trapped and he slipped it out in silence not wanting to take his eyes away from the scatter of pigment across the empyrean sky.

“Remember when we were kids and there was that one New Years you refused to watch the fireworks on your roof with me?”

He felt Brock shrug beside him, “Was dumb of ya, coulda broken your damn neck gettin’ up there just to see ‘em. Dad wasn’t even home idiot.” 

“You were just pouting about being left home alone again.”

“I wasn’t poutin’,” He grumbled out. “Though dad coulda told me he wasn’t gonna be home insteada makin’ me wonder what the hell was goin’ on.”

Jack scoffed lightly, “Like your pops ever thinks about you like that, he was an asshole.” 

He could see Brock grinning, light bouncing off shiny teeth, “You never did keep your trap shut about how much you didn’t like ‘im.” 

“That’s because I didn’t. All he wanted to do was drink and work, he basically abandoned you when your mom died and you were making excuses for him. All he did was give you a roof over your head, you were lucky if he had food out for you.”

His friend shrugged, “He was busy and I wasn’t even there most of the time. Started hiding at your place remember?”

“Busy my ass and you weren’t hiding _ever_. My ‘rents knew you were practically living there, why there was always food for you too and they bought stuff for me saying it was on sale so they got extra shirts or underwear.” He shook his head, “I don’t think I needed four packs of clean boxers.” 

Nodding in agreement, Brock nudged his arm, “Yeah yeah, your folks were alright. Never a day I don’t miss ‘em."

A moment of silence passed, Lucky’s stuffed snores mixing with muffled colorful explosions and Jack only flinched when the sky was lit in bright fiery orange and engulfing the night away for a few seconds like a blazing inferno. He was numb when Brock slipped a hand into his and Jack felt himself breathe again, stitching fingers together as he swallowed down the thick sensation building in his throat.


	3. Chapter 27 - Words of wisdom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets jealous, maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strike this up as after chapter 26 and sometime before New Years in 27 *shrug shrug*

They decided to stop at one of their favored bars before going back to Brock’s place, Jack hunching himself over the bar top with an arm folded over the worn wood and his other hand gently swirling his drink about in its glass.

He had been watching Brock chatting up some people when they stopped him and were gesturing to his gym shirt, one of the girls babbling something and he was sure Brock was selling the place because he enjoyed working there. Jack could see the whole scene from the reflection of the back wall mirror behind the bottles of liquor all lined up for order. What he didn’t like was the one lone guy in the group staring at Brock.

It was ridiculous and obvious. Not that Brock or anyone else seemed to notice, too busy flexing his arm and running his mouth because _of course_. 

It wasn’t that Jack was jealous because why would he be? It was more that he had seen the guy earlier when they first came into the bar. Jack had a habit of surveying his surroundings and studying people. What he saw from that guy was nothing worth going on about, watching him eye every ass walking past him like he was at an all you can eat buffet, guy or girl. It was a little fucked up and he just got that vibe that told him _no_.

Obviously he was sure Brock would have just passed anyway but there was that one fragment where his best friend may suddenly become bisexual and throw caution to the wind and say yes. It was very small of a chance but Jack refused to risk it. 

If Brock wanted to go that way, he would be the first person to be there for him and offer support. This guy didn’t seem like the type to care what was happening. Put simply, Jack was only trying to be helpful. Who knew what would happen if he randomly took a guy home and it turned out to be a terrible situation? 

It would have probably led to something Brock wouldn’t want to understand anymore and just bury it away like he did with some things. What if he never opened up again because of it and just pretended to be some womanizer that he wasn’t? That would be a shitty way to live if it wasn’t who he was.. _hypothetically speaking_. 

He was going to have to take initiative. 

While Jack was sure Brock was telling random stories about this and that related to the gym and boxing in general as he positioned his arms and legs for quick jabs into the air as he ran his mouth, Jack tracked mystery guy standing closer and laughing along with everyone.

It took a few minutes but eventually he approached the bar, leaning against the surface with his hands pressed as he waited for the bartender. He turned back to watch Brock and Jack honestly wasn’t sure why he was so fixated on Brock, he had nothing against his best friend _obviously_ , but Brock didn’t entirely attract guys as much as he attracted the ladies..or maybe it was the places they went to.

He shrugged absently to himself, the guy still beside him and watching unashamedly. Jack turned his head to the side, not looking at his face, but just in the general direction.

“If you stared any harder, it still wouldn’t get his attention.”

The guy looked over in surprise, breaking out into a grin before he turned back to watching Rumlow.

Jack paused, waiting for maybe a retort or something but he said nothing back.

Sipping at his vodka casually, he watched the bartender take his time making a round of drinks for a table at the corner and time passed, Rollins suddenly wondering if maybe the guy was comfortable just checking Brock out from a distance and not even interested in introducing himself.

A small smile peeked at the corner of his mouth, comfortable with someone watching but not making an ass of themselves, he felt himself relax not entirely sure why he was so wound up in the first place.

It wasn’t until the guy cleared his throat, his eyes still watching Brock laughing about something or other and he shifted a little closer to him while leaning in like he was about to share a diabolical secret.

“Hey you came in with the dark haired guy, Brock was it, talking to my friends huh? You think maybe you could- ”

“ -I will end you.”

The mystery guy froze, finally turning his head and taking his eyes off Brock to look at Jack himself and Jack didn’t look back. He didn’t slouch anymore either, he was sitting up straighter and his shoulders relaxed, sipping at his vodka and staring straight ahead at the bottles glittering away against tiny overhead shelf lighting.

Okay, in his defense, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind but on the plus side it seemed to be effective. Reading the way the stranger was now rigid beside him and staring weirdly, mouth a little open and not sure what he wanted to say.

That was the thing that Jack liked about his size and the tone he gave off, no one usually wanted to see if he was bluffing or not, which he wasn’t..sort of.

“Hey, sorry man..I uh, didn’t know he was with you or..anything like that.”

Just then, Brock looked their way, Jack catching it in the mirrored back wall and looking over his shoulder to give Brock a nod and Rumlow smiled at him. It wasn’t one of his casual smirks that he usually threw out, it was just his smile that he kept usually for him or their close friends. 

Jack gave his best friend a half smile back, Brock’s admirer still within earshot, “Yeah well, now you know.” 

Rollins raised his glass for Brock, watching his best friend raise his bottle of beer and they both drank down whatever they had left, Jack turning back to order another and drown himself because maybe, just maybe Bucky was fucking right.

And that..was definitely not something Jack wanted to think about.


	4. Jack's missing hoodie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-HOTP. (Circa. 2011-2012)

He barely heard the door open but he definitely didn’t miss the rapid footsteps entering the guest room in Jack’s house.

“Where’s my sweater?”

Brock rolled over and away from the light streaming in from the hallway and tried to go back to sleep.

“Brock.”

“Up your fuckin’ ass, that’s where.” He ground out pulling the blanket over his head.

Jack only went into the closet and rummaged through it like it was the one sweater he had in the whole damn world. With a heavy sigh Rumlow took a look at the time under a small tiny gap, clock radio reading five am in bright red numbers.

The next thing he knew was Jack sitting on him and peeling the blanket off, manhandling him onto his back and he slowly opened his eyes to Rollins glowering down at him in jeans and a t-shirt.

“Jesus.”

“You’re _wearing_ it, take it off.”

It was too early for this shit, Brock letting his eyes close, “Ain’t gonna buy me a drink first?”

He got a punch in the stomach for that and still laughed about it.

“You knew I was looking for it yesterday so I could go for a run in it this morning and you still went to bed with it on,” He pulled at it, “Take it off.”

“But it’s comfortable! Stop pullin’ it, what’re ya ten? Wear somethin’ else and let me go back to sleep.” 

The next thing Brock knew was he had gotten himself head-locked and forcefully getting pulled to sit up, Jack trying to pull the hoodie off him and Brock couldn’t help the grin despite being woken up so rudely. He swung a fist and felt knuckles hitting Jack in the shoulder, a foot kicking out to get his friend in the ribs before he was launched to the floor with a hard crash, his other leg tangled in the blanket and a fist gripping tight to Jack’s t-shirt pulling him to the floor with him. 

“Rollins quit it!”

He couldn’t stop laughing the angrier Jack looked and the more he laughed, the more Jack was flaring up. 

“Give me my hoodie then!”

“No,” Brock managed to sputter out, feeling a hit to his side, trying to untangle his leg free as he felt cold air wrap around his middle with his t-shirt melded with the hoodie and both were hiked up his chest, “Your ma would be appalled at how shitty- ow! Stop pinchin’ me!”

Brock shoved a hand into Jack’s face, pressing the heel of it into his nose and he didn’t feel bad at all, pushing him off his trapped legs and gaining an advantage, however stupid he looked with the hoodie stuck wrapped up and above his pecs like some weird fashion statement, hood flopping over his head. He climbed on top of him and slapped at Jack’s hands and grabbed at the wrists, pressing them hard against the floor with a breathless grin as he leaned over him.

“Stop, you fuckin’ overgrown Sasquatch!”

There was a small glint in Rollins’ eye and Brock barely caught it before legs wrapped around his middle and by sheer power he was flipped back to the floor staring up at Jack and the air was knocked out of him the second a hand was pressed hard against his stomach. 

Jack easily tugged off the hoodie by the neck hole and climbed off Brock, rolling his eyes at his best friend before storming off, “Buy your own damn sweater!” 

Brock only laid there trying to catch his breath and maybe recover from the way he had been barreled against the hard floor just by Jack’s legs alone; t-shirt still rucked up around his neck and one leg of his sweatpants stuck hiked up around his upper thigh, he groaned as he rolled onto his side and ignored the way his stomach hurt a little.

He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

Stupid Rollins.


	5. Chapter 28 - Bucky opting out on dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Brock, Jack and Bucky work out in chapter 28.

Brock’s kitchen was a mess. He was going to make Rollins clean this shit up with him or he was unfriending him. 

Tomato sauce had cascaded across the front of his fridge and across the wall beside it like a scene from a bad horror movie and the flour was all over the counter and floors. Brock could actually _feel_ the slick sensation of yolk dripping off Jack’s shoulder while he was leaning against the counter, translucent strings of it hitting the arm he had folded against his chest and Brock knew he had a face full of olive oil and salad dripping off his trimmed beard and chin. He moved his fingers only to feel them caked with almost everything they had been using.

He couldn’t exactly remember how everything started, one moment they were cooking dinner together and the next thing he knew food was flying. No, wait..he knew why. Jack was being a total dick about everything the moment he came in. He had pulled up in his car and gotten out while Brock was still talking to the delivery guy about this and that, pushing past them like _they_ were in his damn way and don’t even talk to him about the way Rollins was walking because anyone else wouldn’t have noticed his leg but he was used to observing him and picking up when it was acting up.

Once the guy left to continue his deliveries, Brock came back upstairs with his large box to find Jack sitting in a pissy huff and channel surfing.

“Why’d ya run off, I wanted introduce you.”

Jack said nothing, stopping on some history thing and Brock shrugged to himself changing the subject and pointing at his leg, “Why didn’t you tell me your leg been actin’ up again?”

His best friend finally turned in his direction, “Buck massaged it for me and I took some meds, should be fine. Why were you talking to that guy?”

And that was when Brock was confused, intentionally dropping the gear he ordered with a loud thud on the carpeting as he frowned, “Because he has a fuckin’ job where you give people packages via the address on the labels. You see, they’re called delivery guy or gals, couriers even. It’s amazin’ what this world has.”

Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes, Jack turned back to the television again.

Brock was projecting the word asshole at him so hard he was getting a headache.

He still had to clean his bathroom too. Once every other week he cleaned his bathtub and Jack saw him going in there with his cleaning supplies not even offering a hand. He snorted to himself and went on with it and it wasn’t until Rollins was looking for something did he even show up.

“Where the hell are all your- ”

Brock knew what he looked like, ass in the air and scrubbing the stupid fucking tub but who else was gonna do it? Not like Jack was offering to do shit all just sitting on the couch like a jackass he was.

“Where’s what?” He grunted over his shoulder trying to reach the back without shifting his body.

Jack was leaving before he even muttered a nothing in the hall and Brock could only shake his head because Rollins was probably trying not to laugh at him and he was still sour about his friend’s shitty mood today.

Rollins was just as irritating in the kitchen. They were supposed to make dinner and have a good night with it, just take it easy. They even canceled going out to do things and just hung out. Instead Jack was acting stiff and barely talking to him if he was even looking in his direction, cutting up the tomatoes for their salad while Brock made pasta dough. He brought up the delivery guy again and sounded really stupid about it, he wasn’t sure what Rollins’ point was. 

Brock didn’t bother saying anything and pointed his flour covered hands at Jack’s trembling hand. It sometimes happened from time to time after his accident, it came and went with the leg thing and there was possibly shoulder pain coming soon, “After dinner gonna take care of that.”

Jack drew in a breath, not looking his way while getting the fresh rosemary, “No, I’m fine.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.”

It was the last thing he said before he shoved a hand against Jack’s shoulder, staining his black short sleeved button down and Rollins only looked at it then at him. Brock smiled because why not, he _was_ acting like a sack. Suddenly Jack pressed his palm into the juice pooling at the groove of the cutting board from the tomatoes and pushed it into his face with a shove.

That was where Rollins fucked up because he wasn’t about to back down. After recovering from his stunned disbelief and Jack was back to making the salad, he turned around to his carton of eggs and took two, very casually crushing them against Jack’s shoulder and well it just went to hell from there.

With everything said and done he was standing there in his kitchen not sure if it was really all Jack’s fault this all started but he was barely willing to admit that much. Rollins only stood still, now a few feet away just for distance as he watched him, breathing a little hard and pursing his lips. He had flour in his hair and across his face, some of it pasty from the jug of water Brock had thrown in his face after telling him to cool off and there was egg yolk slowly dripping off his ear, a basil leaf was hanging off his elbow until it fell from the weight of yolk coated over it and broke the tense silence with a wet slap on the floor.

Brock suddenly started to laugh, a short burst of a snort at first, trying to press his own lips together to shut himself up as Jack clenched his jaw while he watched him. It only pushed his laughter outwards and he exploded with it, a hand pressed into his ribs and he couldn’t stop it from coming out. He could feel the tears at the corner of his eyes and there was pasta sauce dribbling out of his hair and down the side of his face. 

Jack could only stare with a shake of his head like he wanted to scold him for laughing but he was just as guilty, his lips twitched and he struggled to keep a straight face which only sent Brock into a harder laughing fit, both hands wrapping around his middle as he leaned forward a bit. He could hear Jack bust up in laughter soon after, a hand coming into his field of vision as his friend steadied himself with his palm pressing against the marble counter top.

“You’re an asshole.” Brock blurted out as he felt his fit die down, the back of his wrist trying to get at his tears though he was still wheezing a little.

“Hey I wasn’t the one that started all this.” Jack defended as he yanked the dishtowel off the arm of the oven door and approached him.

“Yeah whatever you say, you’ve just been actin’ like a fuckin’ prickly pear since you first walked in here. Don’t think I didn’t notice you bein’ a bit different the past week, I know what it is.”

He watched Jack scowl and Brock dropped his head to the side to make sure there wasn’t any sauce going into his ear.

“I haven’t been acting different.” 

Even though Jack’s face looked like he was wearing really bad ghost make up, Brock could see his cheeks going a little red. He straightened his head and raised his chin a bit as Rollins tried to get some of the sauce off his face for him. Brock in turn reached a hand to brush the egg yolk trying to slide down between Jack’s eyes, mopping it with his hand and flicking it towards the floor, the place was a mess anyway so why not.

Jack licked cherry tomato guts off his lip, chewing at the little bit of pulp and Brock let him get as much sauce off him as he could, stepping into his space. 

His finger jabbed his friend in the chest, “Yeah you have, it’s because of your leg right? Don’t gotta be embarrassed about that crap Rawls, I ain’t ever gonna let ya down if you need me to do that for you..unless you don’t want me to.”

Green eyes finally looked at him, Brock crinkling his nose to the sauce running down the bridge of it and Jack took the towel corner and delicately wiped it away. Rumlow found ricotta cheese on Jack’s shoulder, it went into his mouth because there was no point in wasting it.

Jack’s shoulders loosened up and he smiled at him, “I hate being a burden.”

Taking the towel away from him, Brock folded it up so there was a clean spot, attempting to wipe down his friend’s face and get rid of as much flour as he could, bits of it trying to stick into his scruff and into his eyebrows. Brock tried not to laugh at it but it was hard, grinning widely as the towel got tossed aside and Jack dropped his head forward for him so he could try to pick out the bits really being a tacky problem.

“You’re never a burden fucko. How many times I gotta tell ya that?” 

Rollins only hummed and closed his eyes, standing still as Brock tediously picked out each bit of dough stuck to his brows and lashes.

Turning to look around the whole kitchen, everything had a little bit of something on it. This was going to take awhile. 

Trying to ruffle the flour from his hair, Jack glanced up at him, “Well, shower or clean up first?” 

“This is gonna take a fuckin’ long while Jack but,” Brock winced at the sudden realization of something, “I’m pretty sure sauce just went into my ass crack right ‘bout now.”

Jack tried not to snort, “Go, I’ll start cleaning up.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, opening the closet door to the side to get a broom and mop out as well as some cleaning supplies, “I got it.”

Something in Brock hesitated before he crossed the threshold to the hallway, turning back to look at Rollins, “Are ya gonna crash here then tonight, cuz we still gotta eat. I won’t do my..you know, _thing_.”

Green eyes gazed across the kitchen at him, holding the broom in hand as he smiled at him, “Kay, let’s order some pizza though huh?”

Chuckling, Brock wholeheartedly agreed, “I’m buyin’ then.”

Jack nodded as he turned back to the job at hand, “Sure.”


	6. Chapter 28 - Be interested in me Buying you a Drink?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite one threat to someone's life, Jack's on hand when a guy does manage to ask Brock if they could buy him a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second short for Ch. 28 nestled between the 2ish weeks of time skippage.

“Can I buy you a drink handsome?”

Jack was about to reach for his beer when he heard the words addressed to Brock, some pushy blond that wiggled her way in between them with a plunging neckline on a set of tits that Brock almost got a face full of when he turned to look in hers and, by default, _his_ direction. 

His friend jerked his head back in surprise and almost dropped his own beer before he wrangled in an amused chuckle and held up his beer, “Already got one sweetheart.”

Jack refused, downright _refused_ to roll his eyes, charm laced in his voice as Rollins shifted a bit so the blond wasn’t pressing her butt into his hip anymore. He finally picked his beer up, the bartender giving him a sympathetic smile and Jack lazily shrugged because what could he really do? He draped his free arm across the bar top and tipped his bottle back.

He tuned out the conversation between Brock and the girl, taking another beer when it was opened for him and soon after, bouncy boobs walked off giggling at something Brock said and lightly gave his arm a squeeze before returning to a table with some friends.

Brock was slipping a number into his pocket and settling in for his own beer when Jack nudged him lightly, “Go ahead, I can cab it home after this beer.”

It wasn’t like it was the first time Brock ever left because some girl hit on him and they ended up leaving to go bang, it was kind of common actually so it was a little different that Brock was smiling at him and shrugging his shoulders.

“Nah, wanted to be out with you tonight. I can always call her later.”

Jack let out a soft grunt in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything more.

_Wanted to be out with you tonight._

He tried to ignore that phrase lingering in his head. Stupid phrases that he kept picking out like they meant more of something and his brain was over analyzing random bullshit. He couldn’t shake Brock out of his mind if he tried, maybe his head was trying to get a point across but for Jack it was a point he didn’t want to accept. 

It was ruining his fucking life.

He almost choked and spit up his beer when Brock slapped him on the back, jarring him into reality again and his friend leaned in closer, “You know what would be better than me gettin’ some? _You_ gettin’ some ass and hey you like both right? So more choice!”

Jack crooked his mouth in an odd angle, his brows shifting down a little bit more, “That’s not how I work..”

But Brock was ignoring him as per usual, turned around on his stool and scoping out the locals while Rollins groaned under his breath and hunched over the bar, incoming trainwreck in 3..2..

Brock’s hand shot out and slapped his arm, “There, the guy with the leopard print- ”

Frowning for real this time, Jack looked at Brock, eyes boring holes into his best friend’s head, “Whatever you gotta say after leopard print, they ain’t worth it Rums.” 

At first Brock seemed to want to argue but he bit it back for which Jack was grateful for. Soon he was hitting him again though and gesturing to the guy that walked in. Humoring him, Jack turned to look just to see what Brock was grinning about.

“That guy is your type, tell me I’m wrong Rawls.”

Unfortunately Brock wasn’t, he was of some European descent, average height, clean shaven, dark hair that was swept back and falling off to the sides, chiseled jaw and deep brown eyes. He wore snug fitting blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt under a leather jacket. He was really fucking hot.

“Yeah, I _knew_ it!” Brock practically shouted because he had been watching him the whole time, eagerly punching him in the arm as he chuckled in amusement.

Rolling his eyes, Jack went back to his beer, “Doesn’t matter, I’m not talking to him.”

Brock’s face fell, “Why the fuck not?” 

His eyes tracked mystery guy and watched him sit a few stools down from them, eyes sweeping over the pair of them before the bartender approached him for his order.

“I don’t wanna pick up someone Brock, I toldya a million times. I ain’t like that with people.”

Scoffing, Brock turned back around on his stool and picked up his beer, “You ain’t gotta be in a relationship with ‘em Jackie, just lettin’ out some steam.”

Rollins brought the bottle to his lips, “That’s why I work out.”

“Fuck, you’re so impossible sometimes. Jesus Christ. It’s just fuckin’ Rollins, you and your emotional crap don’t gotta be there for it. Just your dick.”

Jack couldn’t help laughing, he knew Brock was only trying to help and bless him for it but Jack just wasn’t interested in casual. He had tried it a few times but always felt out of place. He got into the touch, the intimacy but his mind wanted more than he was offered and it quickly became pointless to him. Everything was fine, just no one ask him when the last time he had sex was.

“When’s the last time you had sex anyway?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.” He griped out.

From the corner of his eye he could see Brock grinning, “That long huh?”

He turned, opening his mouth to say something else when the hot guy was suddenly standing beside them and of course Brock only widened his smile, “Hey.”

It took a second for the guy to think of exactly what to say, flashing a perfect smile at the both of them and gesturing with a finger between them, “Are you two together by chance?”

“No,” Brock immediately informed, all smiles as his eyes twinkled in amusement locking them with Jack like he was preening over being so damn right, “Why you askin’?”

The guy turned just a little, looking at Brock and he raised his brows a little, “So would it be safe to ask if you’d be interested in me buying you a drink?”

If this was any other time Jack would have choked on his beer and laughed. Laughed so fucking loud the whole bar would be worried about his sanity. The deer in headlights look on Brock was so perfect, unfortunately today was not that day. 

Brock, absolutely unarmed by the turn of events was suddenly floundering, “Uh, a drink? You really wanna buy me a drink?”

The guy chuckled, rich and easy going, “Of course I do. It’s you I’m looking at isn’t it?”

“Yeah sure but,” His hand was gesturing at Jack and Jack could only stare at the wall behind the bar because he wasn’t sure how to react to that. He was sure Brock was trying to translate that Rollins was into guys not Brock himself but it was lost in translation and the guy only raised his brows in surprise.

“Your friend is handsome sure, but it’s definitely you I wanted to get to know better.”

Not one bit did Jack like this, there was something so very screwy about it. It wasn’t jealousy, it was weird sure but not so bad that he wanted to somehow deter the conversation. It was just that the guy was so _nice_ and sure of himself, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Brock made a small sputtering noise again and Rollins carried on drinking his beer pretending he wasn’t sitting in the middle of this mess and then Brock laughed, his amused good-hearted laugh when he was having a good time because Jack was sure he just let go of being kinda freaked out and made the best out of it. 

He managed to ignore the way his heart seemed to feel like it wanted to skip at that second, Brock’s laugh deep and rich in his ears, happy. He was sure Brock was still caught off guard and was giving the guy mental kudos’ for even trying to approach him but still Jack disliked their interaction. It was starting to annoy the shit out of him actually.

He casually set the beer bottle down and even though Brock _was_ looking for a way out, he was doing this purely at a selfish standpoint while thumbing to the empty pool table as he turned their way, “Brock, pool table’s open now if you still wanna play.”

He got one surprised face and one relieved one until the one surprised rested a hand on Brock’s leg with no invitation to do so and Rollins’ brows narrowed.

Brock had it though, deftly shifting his leg so it wasn’t under the handsome stranger’s hand anymore, looking like he was back to his old self again, “Sorry guy, you got me mixed up with someone else. While I appreciate the gesture, I don’t swing that way and I’m just here to have a good time with my best friend here. Thanks though.”

The same gesture the guy gave Brock, Brock was now giving to him, warm hand pressed at the top of Jack’s knee and giving it a gentle pat before he drew it away with a lazy smile. 

Quickly recovering from a look of surprise, the stranger was studying Brock for a moment like he wasn’t sure whether he believed him or not about not being gay. He finally smiled warmly again and gave him a shrug, “Well hey, I apologize for getting it wrong but if you ever think about stepping on that side of the fence, come back out here and let me buy you that drink, alright? I really do think someone as handsome as you shouldn’t be alone and why not kill two birds with one stone and let me show you the ropes. I’d definitely love to get to know you better.” 

Okay yeah no, now Jack was feeling jealous. Definitely jealous and a little pissed off because all the implications this guy was dishing out and fuck him, a total stranger wanting to show Brock the ropes. Fuck him with a chainsaw tied to a cactus.

Brock laughed lightly, nodding as he finished off his beer, “Thanks, really but nah, if I ever wanna change teams,” He lightly punched Jack’s shoulder, “I got him to help me out. Ain’t gonna steer me wrong, no offense to you of course.”

Letting out a low disappointed sigh, the guy shrugged like he was accepting his loss with some ounce of grace, “That’s too bad Brock, you look like you would really be good at taking a dick.”

While Jack instantly saw red, Brock was beside him snorting so damn loud it threw Rollins off for a moment, watching him a split second as Brock slapped a hand on his thigh before busting up in laughter with his head thrown back. 

The hesitation was only for a second though because Jack was on his feet while the mystery guy was stepping back not sure which reaction to act on but deciding Rollins’ reaction was more of the serious threat than Brock’s laughter and that he should go. 

“I’m gonna kick his fucking ass.” Jack ground out as he moved to go after the guy only to feel something tugging at his shirt.

“Jackie! Calm down, he ain’t worth- ”

But Jack wasn’t listening, moving past Brock’s outstretched arm grasping tight to the end of his shirt until there was a hard thud behind him and he was unceremoniously yanked backwards from the force. He managed to regain and keep his balance, turning around in surprise only to see Brock sprawled on the floor. 

“What the hell are you doin’ Brock?” 

But all Brock could do was rest a hand on his sore butt and stare at him mouth agape before he burst out laughing again and Jack could only narrow his eyes at him, kneeling down beside him, “Didja lose your mind or something?”

Through the tears sitting at his lashes, Brock shook his head, hand rubbing across his face, “You hear what he said? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Was that how he picks up the fellas?” 

Jack reached out, resting a hand on Brock’s elbow to get his focus and stop laughing so much, “Yeah I fucking heard what he Goddamn said, why I was gonna go after him and kick his ass. Why’d ya stop me?” 

Brock grinned, shrugging his shoulders before he reached out and hooked a hand with Rollins’ to pull himself up and Jack did the same, balancing out their weight and effortlessly getting up on their feet. “You know he ain’t gonna last long with a mouth runnin’ like that Jackie, I didn’t wanna have him ruinin’ our time out.” 

Jack wasn’t exactly convinced as they started walking, Brock’s hand at the small of his back leading him towards the pool tables, too distracted to really think about it, “I was gonna drag his ass back in here so he could apologize to you, he _should_ apologize for that shit.” 

They stopped at the rack of cues, Brock picking two out and pressing one into Jack’s hand as he carried on fuming, “Ah c’mon! Forget it. He high-tailed it out the second he saw your ugly face turnin’ red.” 

“At least he was smart enough to figure that much out. Fucking prick.”

Brock slapped him against the chest with the back of his hand, “Yeah yeah, now rack ‘em up so I can kick your ass. Don’t need no knight in shinin’ armor.” 

Because yeah of course he didn’t. Jack suddenly felt stupid and embarrassed for everything, nodding absently as he grabbed the rack off the hook it hung from at the wall and moved to set the table up. 

Brock sidled up beside him and draped an arm over the closest shoulder, “Jackie, my butt hurts from you pullin’ me off my seat you know. You should rub it since you’re the asshole that did it.”

Green eyes glanced over at Brock batting his lashes like Bucky did when he wanted something and Jack couldn’t help himself but laugh, everything suddenly going back to whatever was considered normal for the both of them as Rollins shoved him away with his elbow, “Get lost.”


	7. Wrapping Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (2015) Christmas extra

Brock was spread legged in a V-shape on the floor with gifts in a pile by his hip waiting to be wrapped. Paper, scissors and tape sat in the ready with one box between his knees staring back at him. He was ready to go except his brain was having nothing to do with gift wrapping right now.

He was a little tipsy of course but not drunk so he wasn’t sure why this process was being such a fucking problem.

“You okay?” Jack wondered as he came in from the kitchen holding two beers in hand, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Sounds like you were having some sort of issue, are you watching the news again? You need to quit doing that while trying to do Christmas shit because you get all pissed off and wanna go vigilante on assholes stealing presents for kids and all that stuff.”

Brock looked over and gave him a glare which only made Jack chuckle as he held out a beer for him. Getting laughed at was the last thing he wanted but he accepted the beer and pointed at the boxes, “Tryin’ to wrap some presents.”

“You were calling gifts that you’re giving the others, ‘Useless pieces of shit’?”

“I jus can’t get the stupid fuckers to sit still long enough for me to wrap ‘em.” Brock paused when Jack was giving him a look that completely said he wanted to say something assholish but chose not to. He didn’t have time for his crap, taking a long sip of his beer before he put it on the table behind him. “They keep slidin’ across the damn paper.”

Jack moved past him and set his own beer down. “You mind if I help?”

“How’re ya gonna help?” Brock spat out in annoyance with himself trying not to frown even though he really wanted to right then, “Fine. You hold ‘em and I’ll wrap the fucks.”

Jack smiled at him and Brock hated when he was humoring him like he was a kid not that he was going to refuse Rollins’ help to get this crap done and out of his way. 

“It’ll be easier with the both of us.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Rolling out some new wrapping paper between his legs because he kind of crumpled up the other one, Jack sat himself down beside his leg and held the first box until he was told to put it on the paper. It seemed so juvenile to measure and cut out the paper with Rollins patiently observing but he wanted to get this shit down and bit back griping about his head going stupid.

“Would you lookit that, the paper isn’t trying to undermine you anymore with me around.” Jack joked, giving him a wink. 

Brock ignored him and rolled his eyes. He had everything under control, he did.

He put the roll to the side and Jack moved his hand back only to find because Rollins had giant sasquatch hands, he had dwarfed the box and Brock had cut too much paper to wrap it perfectly. 

“Fuckin’ damn it Rollins.” He grumbled out trying to push the box this way and that attempting to figure out a way it could maybe fit.

Beside him Jack shifted up so they were hip to hip and one hand came in and grasped at his wrist holding it hostage against Rollins’ thigh. Brock gave him a questionable look before there were scissors cutting the excess paper with ease. Brock tried to pull his hand back in annoyance of not even thinking about that but Jack only held his wrist tighter while his other trimmed, tossing the strip of paper aside.

He finally let go, “You’re overthinking this. Try it again.” 

“This is all your fault. I woulda figured it out without your fuckin’ hands in the way.” 

To either humor him or annoy him, Jack only hummed in agreement and gestured for him to go ahead, “You wrap, I’ll tape it up.”

Shooting his best friend another look, Jack ignored him and neatly taped the paper together before he turned it over and nudged Brock’s arm tilting his chin at the bag of bows at Rumlow’s other side.

Grumbling under his breath, Brock fished a red one out of the package and took off the backing for the sticky bottom, placing it perfectly center. He had to admit, it looked real nice even though he was still annoyed that his brain couldn’t put all that together on its own and had to get Rollins into the thick of it when he could have easily been doing something else.

“Thanks.” 

Jack smirked, “Yeah well, you’re cute when you’re threatening paper but I know if I didn’t intervene shit was gonna go flying.” 

Brock sighed out heavily, leaning against Jack and feeling his ears go warm because God knows why. They always did when Jack said dumb shit like that, like casually sort of complimenting him was a worse insult than when he just directly called him a dick or an asshole. 

“Laugh it up chuckles.” 

“I am.” 

It was all he said before they demolished the small pile of gifts that needed to be wrapped and although Jack showed him the way, Brock felt more like a bystander with Rollins running the show and taking pity on him. Oddly Brock didn’t much mind this time around, watching hands move with great intricate detail over the creases and folds, it was mildly distracting and scary how good Jack was at the work. Within fifteen minutes they were done and every gift looked professionally wrapped. He was impressed.

“There, done. What’d you do if I wasn’t here?” 

Jackass show off. Brock took back every nice thing he was thinking towards Jack while they were sitting together.

They both got up, Jack groaning and stretching out his legs a little gingerly with a hand on his hip like he did. Most of the time it was just out of habit and not because he was in pain. The lack of a grimace or furrow of brow told Brock he was fine and he took a sip of his beer instead. 

Without anything said, they took the presents and put them under the tree. It was decorated with a fuckton of lights and ornaments, then showered with so much tinsel you could barely see everything. Neither of them were guilty though, Bucky went overboard and well, no one really told Bucky no. It didn’t help either that the whole thing made Jack have a stupid wistful look on his face and he was getting misty eyed at Bucky’s enthusiasm, both of them singing stupid carols while Brock rolled his eyes. After all that, Brock just couldn’t dump the tree in the trash, it wasn’t really hurting anyone anyway, it was just that he didn’t much celebrate it except with going to everyone else’s for the decorations and tree. 

They grabbed their beers and fell in a heap on the couch together, shoulders bumping hard against one another and Brock made a sour face, flashing his annoyance at Jack for hitting him as he only responded by propping his feet up on the table. 

He eyed those feet before taking a healthy swig from his bottle, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and Jack absently snorted at him with his own judgmental look not daring a word but did have one brow raised up. 

“It’s good that I love ya, or I’d tell you to take your stupid ass outta here with that look. ‘Specially with feet all up on the damn table like that.”

“‘Least I can wrap a fucking present.” Jack shot back.

Brock mused, slumping down against the couch a bit as he found the remote and started looking for something to watch head tilting sideways against Jack’s shoulder who was watching as the snow fell outside the front window.

“Yeah well, you can wrap all of ‘em now for future Christmas’ cuz I fuckin’ quit.”

Rollins didn’t say anything, only taking another sip from his bottle while Brock settled on a romantic Hallmark Christmas movie because they were A.) terrible, B.) he was weak for them and C.) Jack _loathed_ them.


	8. Somewhere Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psh, teenagers. ;)

It wasn’t that he was in a deep sleep when he heard shoes scraping against his window or the slide of the frame making squeaking noises, it was just that he could see by his clock that it was after midnight and he had a history final to do first thing in the morning. He planned to sleep a full eight hours but like almost everything in his fifteen or some odd years of life, Brock happened and all bets were off the table. 

He didn’t even have to turn over in his bed to look, he just _knew_. Bucky would never make a sound if he climbed in at night on his rare moments and if Clint or Natasha did it, it was during the day. None of his friends knew what front doors were when there was a tree outside his window that was more amusing to them to come into the house with. Brock was the only one that tried to come in without bothering him and ended up making enough noise to mildly annoy him. If his parents weren’t such deep sleepers he woulda told him to get lost. 

Well, maybe.

He heard the window slide back down and he turned over with a loud sigh, half sitting himself up with a hand rubbing his eye, wearing only a pair of blue boxers and a white tank top, “Brock I gotta test tomorrow what the fuck is going on?”

The lack of answer was what threw him off, Brock just standing there and staring wordlessly at him in his jeans and a black t-shirt. The light of a quarter moon brushed along his shoulder and lightly along the corner of his chin and then he saw the blood on his face and Jack sucked in a sharp breath of air.

He leaned down and blindly pawed for the first aid kit, finally finding it and setting it on the bed, “Why you gotta fight all the damn time? Gonna find you in a ditch one day. Why are you so hard headed I swear..”

Rollins hit the lamp on his night table, squinting through it as he could easily see the grass stains across Brock’s clothes and the dark drops of blood down the front of his shirt off his chin.

“Jesus Christ Brock, _why_.”

He extended himself out, snatching one hand and yanking Rumlow towards the bed, forcing his best friend to sit, black hair falling over his eyes and he only shrugged absently, blood caked around his nose and one eye swollen shut already.

“Was out with Alex and Garber said somethin’ about me bein’ a bastard. Dinnt care til he said somethin’ about ma with it.”

Rollins didn’t much have to think about _what_ was implied, wiping down Brock’s face with water from his bottle and a wash cloth he had in the kit. As far as Brock was concerned his ma was a saint and no one could say otherwise, Jack had never met her since she died early on but he had to believe compared to Nic, Brock got all the good things from his mother.

“Did you kick his ass?”

Snorting softly, Brock turned to look at him, his one better eye shining in mirth, “‘Course I did. Cryin’ for his own momma before Alex was tellin’ me to lay off ‘im. Fuckin’ punk ass, think he told him not to say nothin’ like that to me again because he was kneeling down beside him and sayin’ shit. Garber’s eyes went wide like saucers and he put up his hands like he ain’t want no more trouble. Face was all fucked up too, was fuckin’ hilarious lookin’ at Alex like he was gonna piss his pants for talkin’ shit. Dinnt need Alex sayin’ nothin’ but fuckit, whatever.”

Jack could smell a hint of booze on his breath knowing what he was doing with Alex and those cronies they hung out with, dabbing Brock’s cuts lightly with swabs of alcohol but he didn’t say anything and a comfortable silence fell between them when Rollins took his hands and cleaned them up with just as much care, forgetting about needing the sleep he desired to be well rested for his test.

Brock watched one last bandage wrap around his finger, “M’sorry.”

Frowning lightly the second the words left Rumlow’s mouth, he cleaned up and tucked the kit back under his bed, “Ain’t no reason to feel sorry.”

He knew Brock was staring at him, perched at the edge of the bed as Jack sat back up and stared right back. He could feel it suddenly, the bravado slipping away and just leaving Brock there. It was in his eyes, a quiet sadness that came when someone brought up the one person Brock missed the most and could barely remember. Jack wasn’t sure what he could do or say when his own mother was just a few steps away. He knew she tried her best to treat Brock right even though he could see Brock didn’t want it because no one could take his mother’s place no matter what. He did appreciate it, Jack knew, it was just never something he wanted to take in too much and only gave a little bit of himself for her to not worry about it too much.

He wasn’t sure but he only did what he knew from experience, tugging Brock by the wrist carefully and opening out his free arm. He was either going to get a Rumlow that pushed off him or this one, practically falling against him feeling the stiffness drawn in his shoulders despite how easily he was pressed in. Brock’s face fit perfectly against the side of his neck, breath fanning out across his skin shakily and Jack pressed a hand at his lower back, rubbing out the tension with slow easy strokes.

Brock didn’t say anything at first and Jack was used to that, deliberately moving his palm at a snail’s pace against his best friend and waited in silence.

“‘Soz Jackie, didn’t know, jus'- ” He inhaled, nose pressed just below Jack’s ear, “Needed somewhere to go an’ I only thought ‘bout comin’ to you.”

Rollins wasn’t sure what to make of the weird flip flopping in his belly and ignored it, pulling Brock in a little bit more, “You’re gonna sleep here.”

It wasn’t entirely an order, Brock could easily tell him to fuck off and leave in a huff over it but he wouldn’t, easing away eventually so he could guide Brock off him and gesture to his dirty clothes. His body whined at leaving the warmth of his bed but he forced himself to walk across the room and rummage for some clothes, hearing jeans hitting the floor with a light thud. He held out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Rumlow waiting in boxers and shimmying out of those to go commando in pants while Jack was fixing the bed a bit to unstack his pillows and spread out the blanket he was using.

The bed creaked lightly while he was sitting down and reaching to get the light again, Brock moving over his legs to get to the space between him and the wall, laying himself out on his side with his back to Jack. Rollins stared at his friend’s head a moment, he wanted to ask why he didn’t just crash at Alex’s but then another part of him felt better he didn’t. He wasn’t sure why, he wasn’t really sure about Pierce in the first place so he supposed it was the entire reason of why.

Laying out on his back and pulling the covers over them, Jack stared at the shadows cast along the ceiling and it was a few minutes before Brock was reaching back blindly and grabbing a hold of his arm, giving it a demanding tug. He went with it, tucking the arm under the pillow in front of him and curling up flush against Brock’s back, draping his free arm over his waist. The tense line of Rumlow’s body smoothed out easily once they made contact and Jack tucked his face against the back of his friend’s neck.

“Coulda just said you wanted to cuddle ‘stead of gettin’ into a fight.”

“Fuck off.” Brock ground out sleepily, kicking the heel of his foot back hard into Jack’s shin.

Jack pinched Brock in the belly and a hand slapped his, a full grin pressed against skin, not pulling away from the scent of dirty grass and horribly scented Axe shampoo, “Night.”

“Shut up.”

Closing his eyes, he let himself relax not sure about everything he was feeling but Brock was here and he was warm, canceling out all worries he harbored in his mind to deal with them later. If he was going to be a little tired during his test that would be okay, he’d manage knowing Brock was okay like this. It was what friends were for.


	9. Fighting with Televisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock gets sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Toggs1313](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Toggs1313) because you got me thinking about Brock yelling at other things. <3

“Did ya see how they shined up that damn car Rawls,” Brock croaked out from his nest of blankets on the couch. “Ain’t no way, no fuckin’ way.” He shifted to bury himself further as he groaned and coughed into the covers while squirming to get comfortable for the millionth time.

He was hopped up on cold meds so Jack understood the fascination with some infomercial about a car cleaning agent and wondering if it was magic or whatever. He only hummed lightly in acknowledgment that he was listening and carried on with finding the sleeve of crackers to set on the tray and ladle out a portion of Krupnik he just finished making because his best friend wouldn’t have anything less when he was ill.

“Maybe you should call them, ask if they’re witches and how dare they try to trick you with their black magic.” He finally responded, digging around the dish rack for a spoon.

“Fuck you,” Brock groused back. Then a second later louder, “Fuck _you_! There ain’t no way that’s worth five grand, no fuckin’ way! _My ass_!”

Jack had been dealing with this the whole morning and some of the afternoon between occasional naps Brock would take and give him a chance to clean up a little or hit the store for this or that. Brock would find things he hated watching and yell at the television. Sometimes Jack tried to calm him down but then he was shaking a hand at the television like he couldn’t believe the crap was even on and complained to him which Rollins felt he shouldn’t have to deal with.

Brock yelled at classic boxing matches on some fight channel like he could jump into a time machine and throttle the referee, he yelled at judges when Rollins tried to watch Chopped, he yelled in angry Italian at some soap opera that was going on in Spanish. He almost threw his mug when he was watching Bob Ross paint trees and PBS switched it to some telethon on him.

Right now as Jack added a glass of water to the tray, he looked over to see that Brock’s found Antiques Roadshow on. 

Brock broke out into another fit of coughs and buried his face into one of his pillows after telling the appraiser where he could shove an eighteenth century wood desk that was worth over thirteen thou while Jack was never sure if this was the medication or if Brock just milked the fact that he was sick so he can vent without threat of any ramifications from it. He was almost sure it was the latter but it wasn’t really that much of a big deal as long as he wasn’t turning it on him.

Loading up the bowl of soup last on the tray, Jack returned to the living room where Brock was grouchily hugging the blankets around him with what can only be described as his pissy toddler face. It was pretty cute, more so with the puffy red eyes and stuffy nose, hair a little greasy and limp against his forehead, he knew he was a little feverish too. 

Setting the tray down on the table, he manhandled Brock so he was sitting up at the corner of the couch, bunching the blankets around him so his portable nest wasn’t completely ruined and got a few gripes about being moved but doesn’t say anything more.

“Eat the Krupnik before you take your pills and don’t fill up on the crackers or you won’t get them next time.” He warned as he brought the tray over and rested it on Brock’s lap before settling in beside him. 

Brock eyed him like he wanted to say something but turned to the soup instead, picking up the spoon and studying it for a second but eventually began taking a few mouthfuls like it was a task instead of something he really wanted to do but he was eating so Jack wasn’t complaining.

Halfway through without looking up, Brock set down his spoon in favor of the salted tops, chewing one cracker and taking a few sips of water, “Yer gonna get your dumbass sick if you keep sittin’ here with me.”

Jack already thought about that but he wasn’t gonna let it bother him, he never did when it came to making sure Brock was okay because he was the world’s biggest adult child when he was ill and in all honesty, he really didn’t mind tending to him.

“Maybe,” He finally let out casually and leaned back more against the couch, draping an arm along the back of it making it clear he really couldn’t care less. He would always give the same answer whenever Brock questioned him about it, he also knew Brock would just rot on the couch if he wasn’t fussing over him and maybe put a hole through his television if he was left to his own devices. He had already replaced three. “It’s fine, maybe if I get sick I’ll get some peace and quiet from you.”

Brock attempted a laugh; attempted because it came out as more of a coughed groan that went on a little bit and a whole lot of snot plugging up his nose when he inhaled and tried to wrangle himself back.

Jack smiled faintly, mouth corner curving up as he watched him, grabbing the Kleenex box off the table to rest between them, “Besides, can’t leave you here alone.”

Taking a couple of tissues to blow his nose, Brock glanced over them to look at him, “I ain’t a kid, I can deal with this crap on my own. Been doin’ it before, you ain’t always been here.”

And that, it makes Jack feel a little guilty even though he doesn’t have to feel that way. He made a choice and Brock was generally happy for him. Generally, he knew he was a bit worried for him but would never try to stop him from what he wanted to do.

“Yeah but you like it better when I’m here. I make you Krupnik because no one else can make it for you even if they try and no one else will baby you. They may get your shit for you but not all the time, they’re gonna eventually tell you to get off that big ass of yours and do it yourself because you’re a diva.” Brock snorts weirdly and heaves out a laugh, Jack grinning at him, “Who else will let you yell at the television for hours, huh? Natasha will be kind to you for five minutes and the second you act up you’re on your own. Clint won’t help you, he’ll bother you. Buck, yeah he’ll be here all day with you but he’ll turn the whole show into something for him and you’ll end up letting him walk all over you. Face it, if you wanna act like a giant toddler, only I’m patient enough to deal with that.” 

He folded his arms over his chest, gesturing to the soup with a tilt of his chin, “Now finish your soup, I spent time on that for you.”

Brock elbowed him, just because, picking up his spoon again to start eating once more, “Yeah well yer still gonna get sick and I ain’t waitin’ hand and foot on you. I promise ya that.”

Jack pretended to be upset for a moment saying nothing, instead watching Brock eat his soup with a little more interest from the corner of his eye while he found an action movie they mutually loved that was only halfway finished. After eating his lunch and taking his pills, Brock began to pick on the movie plot holes so even things he liked had no chance with him when he was this way. 

Jack kept it to himself and tugged some of the blanket so he can drape it over his legs, if he was going to get sick he might as well get comfortable. Besides, he knew Brock was a big liar, he broke all his promises when it came to making sure Jack was alright, getting sick was not an exception to it.


	10. Chapter 31 - Jack following up with some thoughts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes back and has a quick word with Jack, later Jack lets Brock know what he really thinks about that morning leading to Brock needing someone to take him home after drinking too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows right after chapter 31 so its got spoilers if you haven't read that first.

The door closing behind Bucky seemed like it had some weird ominous tone to it. Well, not entirely. He had expected it to hurt more than it did, lingering around for Steve to say something but getting nothing before just walking away for the time being. 

A solid hand rested against his shoulder as he stared out at nothing in particular, his mind repeatedly replaying the whole scene over and over again. Something had been terribly wrong, he hadn’t been in the shower that long and Lucky was in the bathroom resting on the floor keeping him company with Nanook in tow. 

The moment they both started barking and pawing at door he knew something was so very wrong and by the time he got to Steve he was in a panic and wasn’t sure what to make of it, his mind going over and over itself with the idea that there was no way he could live without Steve being there which now thinking about it was something else because he had been without Steve for years. Funnier considering how close their social circles intersected really but now he couldn’t fathom the idea. On top of that, how his own dog reacted amazed him just a little bit, that he saw Steve as he did.

Right then though, at present time, knowing he was fine and Sam would be on his head watching him for the next couple of days playing the worried parent, he felt at peace without him around. It didn’t help that he had lost himself in those words Steve said before the ambulance took him, that it was always him and then whatever it meant, Bucky was too wary to take them. Too freaked out to really process the meaning or even tell Steve the honest truth because what if it was an accident?

“Sloneczko.”

The nickname broke Bucky out of his head, tilting it to see Jack staring at him in concern, “What’s got you so distracted?”

Bucky swallowed deeply, pressing his hands together, “Where is everyone?”

“Dogs are sleeping, they ate and stared at the door for a few hours waiting for you I think but finally just found the living room and went to sleep. Clint and Nat are both at work, I left early to make sure someone was here when you came back in case you did come back. Brock’ll be out on bail in a few hours, he’ll probably go home but I may have to go keep an eye on him, you know how he is sometimes.”

He did, nodding to his friend.

Jack only stared at him carefully.

Bucky exhaled, knowing that look too well. He turned around and wrapped his arms around his waist, curling up against solid frame, “I don’t know what to do.”

Brows drawing together, Rollins’ arms came up and around Bucky, palms rubbing along his back, “You’re gotta do what makes you happy and what makes you comfortable. Maybe you don’t know what that is right now and that’s fine. No time limit on deciding those things.”

Fighting back a sensation of tears, Bucky sniffed softly, “I’m so confused Jack.” 

Drawing back Rollins cupped his cheeks, leaning down close to Bucky’s face to instill the words with all seriousness, “You do you Kiddo. It won’t mean anything if you don’t feel absolutely a hundred percent. Shift your focus around to things you used to do before he even came into your life again if you’re not ready to pick things up right now but if you do, talk to him. Tell him things you’re thinking, be honest, even if you think he’ll get mad. He _wants_ you to be able to say anything to him. All I know is that lunatic wouldn’t quit, he never quits when it’s for you. Think about that Buck. We’re also here to help you, whatever you need. You don’t need to pressure yourself with anything. Alright?”

Bucky sniffled and nodded, “I think I almost had sex with him. Well, hinted maybe?”

Jack opened his mouth to say something but stopped and stared at him instead, straightening up to _really_ look at him, “You didn’t.”

Looking sheepish, Bucky only shrugged.

“Sloneczko you tell me not to be Brock’s housewife. Don’t spread your legs open for Steve just because you miss him okay?”

“Oh!” Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, slapping Jack in the chest, “Don’t talk like that ever again!”

Jack faked flinching a little and laughed, “Hey if you want my opinion..”

“I never asked for it!”

Wrapping his arms around Bucky, even though he struggled a bit in them and Rollins’ shoulder got a few good punches, he was still laughing as he pressed a kiss against his hair, “You’re trouble.”

“ _You’re_ trouble, asshole!” Bucky grumped out, trying not to smile.

*****

Jack found Brock in the garage later that night, as predicted, out on bail beating away at a punching bag and he sat himself down on one of the stools by the workbench catching his eye before Brock pressed on. He could see some scratch marks from grazed teeth on one of his outer forearms, working out without a shirt on, he rerouted his eyes to the wall past him.

“How’s things?”

“Peachy.” Brock shot back almost immediately, not looking his way.

Leaning back, Jack carefully watched him, “Everything going fine with the lawyer?”

Scoffing a little, Brock shoved the bag back and moved around it as he pulled a towel off from a hook on the wall, “Yeah, because yeah the Kid’s got a lawyer retained _just for me_.” He half glanced Jack’s way, “Ain’t that jus’ lovely?”

Jack shrugged, “He’s prepared. Can’t blame him.”

Shaking his head, Brock draped the towel around his neck, dragging it along his throat and down his chest a little only to look up and see Jack standing near him, “No, can’t say I can.”

He stared at his friend, realizing his gaze was fixated on his arm and he paused, holding it out because Jack would have only taken it either way and watched him rub fingers against the healed remnants of dragged canines.

“Ain’t nothin’.” He let out when he saw the way Jack’s brows were knitting together. “Dog was protectin’ his family. Didn’t even bite me, you know that.” 

“And you’re okay with that?”

Brock shrugged, “Can’t fault a dog for readin’ Buck like a book and protectin’ Rogers, ain’t knowin’ no better and like I said, didn’t bite.”

Jack was still staring at the marks and Brock brought a hand over, pressing it heavily against his. “Ain’t nothin’.” He repeated firmly.

A warmth spread in Rollins’ stomach and he let himself linger in it a few seconds when he raised his head and they looked at each other just before he drew his hand out and away from Brock’s turning to go back inside, anywhere from the chill lingering in the air from outside and the heat climbing up his neck, “Getting soft on me Rums.”

“Maybe.” 

Jack paused in the corridor, out from his friend’s line of sight as he let himself smile at the comment before he shook his head and jogged up the stairs.

Following him shortly after, Brock collected his shirt off the armchair and checked his phone, “Shit. Gotta go over crap with that damn lawyer tomorrow.”

Not looking from the worn paperback he was perusing, Jack smirked, “Maybe you shouldn’t act like a dick and beat up a guy in front of your friend’s house that wasn’t going to hit back then, should you?”

Turning his head, Brock raised a brow at him, “Got somethin’ to say?”

Shaking his head, Rollins still didn’t look up, the pad of his thumb lightly tapping the edge of his tongue to turn to the next page, “Only that you don’t gotta settle everything with your fists. You could talk it out and avoid the lawyer. Hell, avoid traumatizing Buck too while you’re at it because he didn’t come back home so you could answer the damn door and start knockin’ the guy he likes around. You’re so stupid with that.”

“ -The fuck Jack.”

Jack glanced up to a dumbfounded Brock Rumlow and he sighed a little, “Just saying. Shit could have been avoided if you had been civil. Instead you hit him so hard while he was unguarded he banged his head against the pavement and made you look like a fucking asshole in front of a lotta people. If from what I heard from that neighbor, if his fuckin’ shoulder didn’t catch the ground first, he woulda fractured his damn skull, you could have killed him. Get that through your thick skull, you coulda _killed a man_ Brock.”

Brock pressed his lips together and Jack only calmly continued.

“Not saying you could _not_ be an asshole if you avoided that because frankly this is you we’re talking about here but, you can’t hit people Brock. You just _can’t_. I’ll fight with you, you know that. I always got your back but this..Rogers never lied about the picture. You didn’t even _try_ to figure that out though. I thought he was lying but from what I know, it didn’t click. All that was someone out to hurt Buck, like that bullshit postcard, you know who’s trying to scare him. You should be taking that energy and using it against the right person not jumping down another man’s neck because you think he’s not right for Buck.”

Narrowing his eyes at the sudden lecture, Rumlow frowned, “ _Oh_ , so now yer the new expert on what’s gonna help Buck?”

“No,” Jack shook his head, closing the book, “But Buck has feelings for him, you know that. You know too that he needs someone to love him the right way. I think Steve could do that, I’m starting to believe he’s good for him but you gotta let the Kid grow, you keep caging him. He isn’t going to get the confidence he needs. His doctor is trying, I try, even Clint tries. It’s you and Nat that gotta throw a blanket over him and protect him from the world- ” Brock opened his mouth to counter, face flushing but Jack raised a hand to stop him, “Believe me, Rums. I swear to God and Jesus and everything else. I wanna do that too for him, but he’s gonna keep being scared and it ain’t healthy. You already know he’s not good, he gets frightened, he gets nightmares, he has attacks. He’s getting help but it’s slow, we can’t be hindering him. Remember when he used to do everything with a smile and he was hungry to look at everything with a curious eye? We’re lucky when he smiles and you see those crinkles around his eyes and his light shining, I want that back. It’s been over two years, I’m tired of seeing it so dull. It was a long while before it even came back into his eyes as much as it does and you know who makes it the brightest? Fucking Rogers does that and don’t look at me like you don’t believe me because you know I’m right, why are you so bent on fighting him and keeping him away? He’s only trying to bring Buck back to you. _Your Bucky_. I don’t know about you but I plan to do whatever it takes to help them find their way."

Jack waited, letting words soak in because before this point he wasn't sure if he would help like he meant to but after hearing him say them he knew he would. He sat patient but slightly cautious as he stared at Brock drilling holes in his skull with his eyes. He could see from the ample facial expressions that he was going from violent to some level of sadness that he quickly schooled away before surprise only sat there and then instead of speaking he only turned and left, footsteps echoing softly against carpet before his bedroom door loudly slammed closed. Dropping his head forward over his legs, Rollins folded his hands over his lap exhaling a long sigh.

Brock showered while Jack took dinner out of the oven, not sure what was baking under the foil but he wasn’t very picky. They ate and cleaned up in silence but it wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. A little bit of television watching was the moment Brock mentioned going out for a few beers leaving it an open invitation without saying so. Jack declined like last time, feigning tiredness and giving him a small smile. He pulled himself up to get going, slipping on his coat.

“Gettin’ old I tell ya.” Brock mumbled out ruefully.

Rolling his eyes, Jack huffed at him from the bottom of the stairs, “Twenty five isn’t old.”

“It is when you ain’t comin’ out with me to drink. Who the fuck goes to bed at nine? _Old people_ that’s who Jackie.”

Jack gave him a small smile, “I got some shit I gotta do in the morning, take a run, pick up some things. Paperwork I’ve been putting off at the office alright, get off my dick.”

Brock snorted as he approached the stairs, “You’d be so damn lucky!”

He opened his mouth to retort but honestly, Jack had nothing _to_ retort, closing it and shooting Brock a look before he turned back to the front door giving him a halfhearted wave over his shoulder before leaving.

*****

Jack was dead to the world until the clock on his phone said something after one in the morning, woken up by his ringer going off over and over again. Generally he would have turned it off but sometimes he knew better, this was one of those times.

Last call was over an hour ago, people had lives, families to deal with, other shit that wasn’t _Brock Rumlow_ in the bar refusing to leave when you were fucking closing. There were a few places that had Jack’s number, it was bad enough one had it, he knew of at least _three_ and at least one place where they didn’t speak English and would only yell angry loud Italian at him at three in the morning and basically said to ‘come pick up this asshole’ over and over again until he did it.

Jack sometimes made up a few business cards once in a while at work that said something like ‘if I’m drunk, call Jack’ with his number on it and tuck them into every jacket and coat Brock owned. He couldn’t shake how comparable it was to stitching names on your kid’s underwear if they went to camp or sleep overs a lot.

There was a couple times he could remember where it saved his best friend’s bacon and he had to get him instead of being put in the drunk tank.

The time on his phone was reading quarter to two, the person on the line sounded very tired and he could hear Rancid playing loudly in the background. Before they said anything besides his name he sighed into the mouthpiece, “Give me five minutes and text me the address, I’m on my way.”

He got there with an overcoat over his sweats, a permanent frown etched on his face and a staff of currently two warily staring at Brock from the bar. He approached them first and closed out his tab with a generous tip, they had his wallet as a security measure which was how they found his number and he slipped that into his coat pocket before he mentally prepared to deal with Brock. 

“I may need someone to open the door for me.”

The girl looked confused but the guy seemed like he knew his game, nodding as he went on standby. 

Jack walked over to Brock and rested a hand on his shoulder, “C’mon Brock, they’re closed. Let’s get you home.”

Slightly glazed over eyes looked in direction before he turned back to the jukebox, his fingers jabbed along buttons and leaned further against the machine. He tilted his head away from him and closer towards the speakers, an absent smile on his face when he got Black Flag to play.

“Dun wanna Rawls, fuck off..” He drawled out, nodding his head side to side to the music and palm lightly tapping away on the glass cover.

“Brock..”

“Ain’t the boss o’me pal.”

Jack frowned, shaking his head and loosening up his shoulders just before tilting his head to one side and hearing a soft pop from his neck, “Fine, I don’t have fuckin’ time for this. I got work in the morning. You gonna act like a kid, I’m gonna treat you like one.” 

He got Brock to turn his way with a grab of his wrist with an opposing hand while he ducked down a little and swept his shoulder into his friend’s chest and pushed, scooping his other hand in to grab Rumlow by the back of his thigh while he was doubled over in confusion. Jack easily brought Brock up off his feet and balanced him on his shoulders effectively lifting his friend in a standing fireman’s carry without much of a fuss.

“Whoa, hey Jackie! W-what- ”

“Shut up. I _asked_ you nicely, now we’re doing it my way.”

“Put me down!”

He didn’t say anything more and maneuvered a mildly struggling Brock out the door, nodding to the employee keeping it open for him and making his way back to his car.

*****

“Brock, c’mon use your fucking legs.”

He groaned instead, stumbling into the front door as Jack unlocked it and was caught before he fell onto the floor.

“Jesus, how much did you drink you asshole?”

Brock stumbled forward and practically _crawled_ up the stairs only to stand and take a few steps before he fell against the arm of the couch letting out a small grunt, “Too much.”

Jack followed closely after him, resting his coat on the couch and managed to wrangle him back up onto his feet, guiding Brock towards his bedroom, “Just gotta sleep it off.”

Parking Brock’s swaying form in front of the bed, Jack turned around to look through his drawers for a change of clothes when he heard a heavy whump sound behind him. He turned to find Brock faceplanted into the blanket, struggling to slide himself forward with his butt in the air like he was trying to mimic some sort of drunk caterpillar, stopping just before his two pillows.

Jack tossed some clothes beside him, “You’re a fucking mess.”

His friend only groaned, rolling onto his back with way too much effort, “Says you.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack leaned against the door frame trying to make this as easy as possible for him, “Hurry up and change, I wanna go home.”

“Could sleep here asshole.”

He was right, with a guest room, it wouldn’t be that much of a big-

“C’mere stupid, sleep in bed with me. Ain’t gotta be mad at me Jackie, I ain’t meanin’ to hit Rogers that fuckin’ idiot just makes it so damn easy- ”

_Oh._

Jack couldn’t sleep in his bed with him.

“ _Jackie_. I fucked up alright, come here.”

Tilting his head up towards the ceiling with a shake of it, he approached the bed and leaned forward, resting his hands against the mattress, “What?” 

Before Rollins could really react, an arm shot up and Brock pulled him forward, feeling a big wet kiss press against the corner of his eye.

Jack tilted his head back, “Brock, quit kissing my face and go to fucking bed.”

“I’m Italian, it’s illegal to not kiss people Jackie.” He let out with a slur, arms locked tight around his neck.

Rolling his eyes, Jack tried to move out again, “Don’t make up stupid laws..”

He attempted to wrench himself free only to be pulled in tighter, bicep pressing into his face and he had to slip a hand in to push Brock’s arm a little for breathing space, inhaling the cloy scent of alcohol and faint sweat mixed with the smell of his aftershave. Pressing his free hand against the bed he tried to keep his upper torso from pushing down against Brock even though a foot was perilously balanced on the floor with a knee pressed at the edge.

“Brock.”

“Shh,” His friend whispered, face pressing into his cheek, affectionate and gentle and Jack winced over it as he tried his best to block out any emotion trying to memorize him like this. “Just five minutes Jackie, just five minutes. You ain’t ever do me wrong you know that? Ye- yer always there for me. Always and I ain’t ever forgotten.”

Generally Jack would have listened and smiled but being kept hostage via headlock and bent awkwardly with his feelings trying to stonewall him made the whole situation uncomfortable. He tried to slip out but Brock was adamant on keeping him close, murmuring something into his forehead as he pressed another wet sloppy kiss and Jack sighed to himself.

“I love you Jackie, love ya like the world.” More kisses danced across his cheeks and Rollins tried to pull his head away in disgust because Rumlow’s breath was way too boozy and stung his eyes a little. There may have been a fraction of something he didn’t want to deal with lingering around with their faces so close that he generally refused to think about that. 

“Jackie..”

Warm damp breath washed along Jack’s ear and he closed his eyes a second, Brock’s face tucked against his neck and he could pull away, he knew he should but everything felt like it was warm and _right_. His hand slipped along sheets, curling around underneath Brock’s lower back, another wet kiss pressing into his cheek.

He shook his head, pushing himself back against the foot on the floor pulling Brock with him, “Okay, okay you gotta stop now.” 

Brock made a small sound in disappointment attempting to pull him in again but Jack wasn’t having any of it, leveraging himself off the bed with Brock hanging half on and half off, Jack stooped a little as he tried standing. He managed to forcefully pry Brock’s octopus arms off and drop him back down on the bed, watching as he bounced against the mattress and rolled to his side slurring something out in irritation.

Jack paid no mind, pulling the blanket over Rumlow, “Get some rest, I gotta go home.” 

He turned to head out only to feel a pillow hit him in the back and Brock rolled over onto his back looking at him with glassy eyes, “Jackie.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the pillow, Jack frowned, “What?”

“Why you put me in bed in my jeans?” 

“Because I’m not changing you like a little kid, besides your clothes are right- ” He looked around just to see them on the floor in a heap for some reason. “Look you dropped them on the floor, pick ‘em up.”

Instead of doing what he was told, Brock rolled away and turned his back to him, arms folded over his chest, “Ain’t sleepin’ without you ‘ere.” 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now Brock?”

Because Brock was a huge dramatic kid, he shook his head at him and Jack, though irritated, tried not to smile in case he turned back around. And because he was weak, he begrudgingly picked up the clothes and threw them at Brock before turning to leave the bedroom.

“Change yourself and I’ll stay, if you aren’t by the time I come back I’m leavin’ Rums, I swear to you.”

He also tried not to smile at his stupid friend as he watched him struggling to get out of his shirt to get his tank top on because yeah, a damn child. He went to the kitchen for some water bottles and pills for Brock's head just in case, finding him laid out on his side at his half of the bed he usually slept on and waiting with partially open eyes.

“Why aren’t you sleeping? You look like you need to.”

“Waitin’” Brock answered like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jack smiled wryly as he climbed in beside him, “You’re a fucking problem, you know that?” 

He received a grumble in return and put his arm out against the bed so Brock could curl up beside him because there was no way that wasn’t what he wanted to do. Drunk Brock always turned into cuddly Brock and Jack needed to sleep. He could fake it until Brock passed out, shouldn’t be too long, then he could slip out and crash in the spare room.

A large calloused hand brushed against his face as it did sometimes when Brock was like this, “Jackie?”

“Hm?”

“Why you ain’t kiss me back, you know yer honorary Italian too asshole, gotta do it too.”

Jack dropped all expression for a moment before he was glaring up at nothing on the ceiling, “I am _not_ kissing you back Brock.”

Rumlow jerked his head back, aghast at the reply, “Why not? Ain’t I handsome?”

And that..Jack started laughing, curling his arm that Brock was resting on around his friend and brought him close, “I hate that you’re drunk asking this.”

“Why?” 

“Idiot,” Jack muttered. “Go to sleep.” But because he wasn’t a complete asshole, he leaned in and pressed a kiss against Brock’s forehead softly, lips freezing when his best friend curled into him tighter and threw an arm around his waist. Not the first they’ve slept face to face like this but it was a rare thing and especially not since Jack was having dreams about him. Still, he couldn’t bear the struggle of dealing with more of Brock’s fussing if he didn’t get his way.

“I hate you.” Jack mumbled against his skin instead, nosing him at his temple a little because he just couldn’t help himself.

“I love you even though you like Rogers, that shithead..” Brock replied sleepily, eyes already closed and breathing leveled out.

And it was that easy. That simple for the both of them. That was their relationship in a nutshell. 

It didn’t take very long to hear Brock’s soft snores beginning and Jack moved his head as he eased Brock gently on his back so it would be easier to extract himself out of the bed looking down at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up a little. 

“I know.” He mumbled, trying and failing not to grin. Maybe it meant something different to Brock but he still appreciated it when it was said, fingers brushing back black hair. 

He watched him carefully, green eyes studying Brock as he took his friend’s limp hand and just stared at it. He let go and watched it fall back against his chest and then Jack picked it up again after a second of thought, resting his fingers against his palm again and watched Brock still asleep. He took in a small breath before he pressed a kiss into Rumlow’s bruised angry colored knuckles, feather light and barely there, drawing back a second to look over to make sure Brock was still out before he nuzzled the spot and frowned over how stupidly devoted he was to someone that had no idea eventually putting Brock’s hand back on his chest.

He’d give Brock about ten minutes and then peel himself off, eyes drifting closed as he pressed his lips against the corner of Brock’s forehead again, leaving it there.

Of course, as things went in his life, he didn’t wake up again until the sun was barely up and Brock accidentally slapped his hand against Rollins’ face when he had rolled away from him at some point and was rolling back into his space again. 

_Of course._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, this one got a bit long lol


	11. Brock tries to nap through movie night

Brock made a face when he came back to the couch and found everything otherwise occupied. He had invested in a seven piece L shaped sectional so that when everyone came over there was a comfortable spot and although there was five of them, everyone was acting like they were at home with feet up and no cares. He would have settled into the armchair but it was the principle of the matter and someone should move their damn ass feet to give him a spot. 

He waited a few seconds with warm popcorn in a bowl and all he got was Jack meeting his glower and flicking his hand at him to move so he could see the television. Bucky was at the end reclining all the way back with a blanket over him. Barton took up _three_ seats beside him, stretched out like a fat cat, head resting against Natasha’s thigh and Jack was at the end sitting in some angle where he was half on the end recliner at the other side but also draped on the seat beside him. No space for Brock himself. 

Assholes.

He wasn’t opposed to shoving himself in between people but no one bothering to leave him a spot was kinda dickish so he sat on Jack’s legs because the asshole stole two seats and didn’t need them, he would deal with Barton later in his own way like adding a ghost pepper to some pasta sauce when everyone was done eating and let him have a go at the leftovers and burn his mouth off. 

He smirked at the idea, almost falling off the couch when Jack jerked his legs out and Brock had to grab the bowl of popcorn before it jostled off his lap, glaring at Rollins, “Woulda cut that shit out?!”

Jack raised a brow, “You’re the one parking your fat ass on my legs.” He reached for a handful of the popcorn, tossing some in his mouth, “Besides, just make more if you drop it.”

“Fuck off. _You_ can go make more.”

“Levka, move over a little, I want to tuck my legs in.”

He didn’t know what Natasha’s game was, she could fit fine and have room in the seat space she had but moved closer to Jack anyway who only grabbed more popcorn. Not knowing where to put his left hand he dropped it on Jack’s thigh, “Quit eating it all, pig.”

Rollins scoffed but stopped eating as he went back to the movie, draping his arm around Brock’s shoulders instead since he wasn’t allowed anymore popcorn.

A yawn kicked in and Brock did what he always did, lean into Jack, popcorn be damned because dropping his head against the awaiting broad shoulder was more of a comfort right then. He’d seen this movie a few dozen times, he didn’t need to see it again. He pushed the bowl onto Jack’s lap and twisted his body towards his friend, he was sure he ate too much and fatigue was kicking in from his long day. He’d just get a little bit of shut eye feeling Jack’s arm slope down and drape against his back.

“Recline your seat.” He grumbled, rubbing his face against Jack’s shirt.

“I’m trying to watch the movie.” Jack shot back, other hand already back in the popcorn again.

A few seconds later Rollins pushed back on his seat as the foot rest extended out and let him stretch out a bit more, Brock using the change to angle his legs Jack’s way and rest his own feet on the same foot rest. He tucked one arm against the side of his neck and rested his other against Jack’s chest trying to take a nap. He could feel Jack’s fingers making small light circles at the small of his back and it was really helping, a lot.

That was until there was a deep rumble from his friend’s chest when he started to laugh at something and Brock had to slap him in the pec to get him to stop, “Tryin’ to sleep asshole.”

“I don’t know why you gotta use me as a body pillow then if I can’t laugh at shit.”

“Shuddap and keep doin’ that thing yer doin’.” 

“What?”

“Shh!” Clint hissed from across his side, “I can’t hear what they’re saying!”

Brock shot his head up and glared at him, “That’s because yer fuckin’ deaf ya dumbass!” 

Both Bucky _and_ Clint started howling from their places, Bucky dropping the bag of chips he was holding onto the floor while Brock turned back to how he originally was, brows furrowing together slowly when he felt something was amiss.

“Rawls.”

“Hm?”

“You stopped your hand thing.”

“What hand thing?”

“Whatever you were fuckin’ doin’ with yer damn hand on my back. Do it again.”

“You know, for a guy that just wants to sleep. You’re acting pretty bitchy over every little detail.”

“Just shut up and touch my back like you was doin’ or I swear to Christ..”

Jack only pinched him really hard and Brock jumped, slapping at his chest.

“Stop that! Why you gotta be a dick?”

“I learn from you.”

“God damn Rollins, you’re in a ripe mood tonight. Don’t be surprised if I get ya back later on.”

Brock tried to settle back into his nap, frown coming back when he was lightly pinched again.

“Don’t even think about spitting in my dessert, your revenge doesn’t work when I’ll just eat it anyway.”

Brows knitting together, Brock looked up at him from his shoulder, “What? You been knowin’ly eatin’ stuff I spat in?”

Jack shrugged, not taking his eyes off the screen, “Ain’t the first time.”

Contemplating the idea, Brock leaned in a bit by his ear though he didn’t drop his voice, “Fine, next time I’ll just jizz in it for you. Extra toppin' right?”

“That’s gross, you’re gross.” Bucky cut in, making a face but otherwise going back to the movie.

Jack didn’t react with such disgust, Brock feeling him shrug absently, “I’m gay. Pretty sure sucking dick is a thing I’d be into when I feel like doing it, what do I care?”

“You’re sick Rollins. Fuckin’ sick. Now stop talkin’ so I can have some rest.”

“Night Darlin’.”

“Shuddap,” He curled up a tad closer because he _was_ a little cold, “..keep doin’ the hand thing.” He gave it a small thought before he continued, “Please.”

Jack finally did so without giving him any lip and Brock was grateful, not that he was in the mood to extend anymore niceties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone: Always cuddling with Jack! :P  
> Brock: **I DON'T.**


	12. Shelving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-HotP. (Circa. 2011-2012)

Brock was bored out of his damn mind and finally got the balls to approach Jack’s four lined shelves of _absolute bullshit_. They were all randomly stuffed this way and that with various books, movies, CD’s and vinyl’s that he couldn’t even understand. It made no sense, poking a finger at the spine of a book and looking around for Jack to suddenly come from the ceiling like an asshole he was and yell about his stuff being touched because that was how Jack was. He apparently had an order of things and needed it to be that way. Once he asked Rollins if he had a mental condition and only got the finger back so he was sure he did.

Well at least Jack wasn’t here this time around and wouldn’t be back for a few hours since he was at the hospital getting checked up and running tests, that and his appointment with the physical therapist. Brock was on his own for a while yet and it was weird, eyes looking over how illogical his stuff looked on each shelf. Generally he was the one that was messy and Jack was the one putting everything in its place. Though this was impulsive and he was good at acting on shit like that, before he could talk himself out of it he started pulling crap out left right and center.

*****

Brock was asleep on the couch when the front door opened and he started waking up hearing the familiar sound of Jack clearing his throat in the entryway and the shuffle of him kicking his shoes off. Sleep was calling him back when there were steps that suddenly stopped and he didn’t think much of it until he got that weird uncannily strong feeling of someone looking over at him from the back of the couch and he opened his eyes slowly to see Jack glaring at him.

“Jesus Christ, could scare a man lookin’ over the couch with that ugly face Rawls.”

“What the hell did you do?”

He rubbed his eyes, “Nothin..”

“Yeah you did, you fucked with my shelves.”

“ _Oh_. Yeah I got bored, ‘sides it was all fucked up. I cleaned it up.”

“You alphabetized my books and put them on one shelf, the records on the other, then the movies and the CD’s on another..”

Brock stared at him like he was missing something, “And?”

Frowning, Jack’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of the couch, “I swear, no one should be surprised if I end up murdering you in your sleep.”

Sitting up, Brock wore an irritated expression, “What the hell is wrong now? Think you’d be thankin’ me for makin’ it all orderly like you like it! You should be fuckin’ grateful..” 

Eyes went wide, “That’s the thing though, I’m _not_ grateful! It was organized so it went with my moods- ”

When Brock was still giving him a confused look, Jack sighed loudly and walked over to the shelves, “Look,” He pulled out a vinyl of Tears for Fears, “If I’m in an Eighties mood I try to put this with the Smiths, New Order, Joy Division and the Cure. Sometimes because this extends to Floyd and Zeppelin, they’re near for me to grab beside books by Tolkien, Pratchett and King.”

Brock gave him a scrutinizing look, gesturing to the line up of books by Agatha Christie, “So what do you do when you’re in a murderin’ mood, check out this row and lump it together with Slayer and Pantera and call it a day?” 

Jack frowned at him, moving to the row of books only to reorganize them in order of release, “I just..have a system. It bothers me when I can’t find things. Sometimes I forget if I moved it somewhere else..”

He trailed off and turned his back completely to Brock, fixated on getting the shelf sorted out to his liking and suddenly, as Brock watched him quietly moving the spine of one book around and slipping it between two others, six books away and concentrating on remembering the true order they were supposedly supposed to be in Brock realized _what_ the reason for Jack’s reaction was.

When they were kids it was a sense of control he liked to have, a control on his things because he sure as hell couldn’t control his outside environment, his dad was ex-military there was no way to control his home environment even if it was okay and let’s be honest, there was no way Jack could control Brock himself back then and expressed it with sighs and gripes for as long as he could.

Now though, after the accident, after he came back home and lost bits of his memory from the head injury that should have left him brain damaged yet didn’t, his need for some sort of control in his life was worse for it and Brock really didn’t notice it much ‘til now.

He stared at Jack obsessing; a stack of CD’s pulled out as he mouthed something to himself before placing three on one shelf and then a pair on the shelf beside him, dividing the last two on the side table for later. He had Hamlet and Macbeth tucked under his arm and waiting for him while retrieving a book of love poems by someone he couldn’t see the name of. The poem book went beside the music before three books by some guy named Fyodor Dostoyevsky were pulled off the top shelf and rested on a different level.

Slowly Brock got up and stood beside him, hands wanting to go for the items he had so carefully alphabetized earlier and pull them all out. Instead he waited next to Jack for instruction, his friend finally noticing him there a couple of minutes later when Jack was holding the Art of War in one hand and the entire box set collection of M*A*S*H in the other. 

“Can you..put this beside the other military type stuff? I know they’re two different points but- ”

“ -Okay.” Brock cut in, taking both items before Jack could finish, “I’ll put it over by that weird Hitler book you were reading last week.” 

Jack glanced away, looking a little piqued before nodding slowly, “Thanks Brock.”

Turning to shelve the items in their rightful place, Brock shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, “Ain’t no bother.”


	13. Brock's very temporary job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-HotP. (Circa. 2012)  
> (Brock is only 20, he’s still a grumpy old man lol)

He knew that sometimes people wondered how Jack could tolerate Brock’s short temper and potty mouthed yelling on a daily basis. If he had to tell the truth, it was really because he was so _entertained_ by it. 

Plus no one saw you as an asshole if your best friend was a bigger one. 

Sometime between Jack’s physical therapy visits and Brock having way too much time on his hands, Rumlow got a job somewhere. When Jack asked where, Brock would clam up and never elaborate. Eventually he said it was just enough to keep him busy a few times a week when Jack wasn’t around and still volunteer at the gym he liked going to, learning and teaching boxing because he knew football was never going to be his sure thing. 

At first Jack didn’t much care, he was happy for him. Worried he had taken way too much of his friend’s time the past year and some change with his accident. Brock deserved things for himself without Jack around.

Brock was still living with him and would come home looking exasperated, heading straight for the shower like he was trying to wash off any evidence and more than a few times Jack swore he smelled coffee in the air.

One time he asked him if he was a stripper because of all the showering, Brock just told him to fuck off. So that was probably off the list. 

_Maybe_.

*****

Jack didn’t much like Starbucks, thought their coffee was overpriced and not much of anything in the taste department for him but there was one near the therapist’s office and he was running late, missing out on grabbing coffee from the place he usually stopped at.

It was then that he saw Brock, inside one of all places and standing behind the counter giving a customer a casual smile as he handed whatever drink she ordered over and told her to have a nice day. Jack surmised he must have applied one day after dropping him off. 

The place wasn’t too busy and Jack strolled right up to the counter with a surprised laugh, leaning his hands against the surface, “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Brock huffed softly, his shoulders fell and his face had gone sour, “Fuckin’ Christ.” 

Beaming wider at him, Jack waggled a finger at him, “Hey now, that’s not the kind of language you should use in front of a customer you know.” He smirked evilly, relishing in it, “I may have to contact your manager.”

“Shut the fuck up Rollins.” Brock spat out lowly, “All I need is for your dumb ass to call over a girl who’s barely sixteen and somehow runnin’ the show. Buy your damn coffee and get out before you get me fired.”

Jack tried not to laugh at Brock’s glowering, his body tense and annoyed, watching him turn to go fix the order even though Jack never gave one but he had faith in Brock knowing what he liked nonetheless.

“Wow Brock, I never knew you had any friends.” 

Jack glanced over to where some guy knelt on the floor stacking coffee packets, he looked younger than Bucky with styled blond hair and gauges in his ears with hipster attire complete with bowtie under the black apron they were both wearing. He could see why Brock had such a prickly demeanor when he could let it loose.

Grumbling something too low to hear, Brock didn’t look at either of them, too focused on preparing Jack’s coffee and Jack only leaned forward on the counter so his voice carried to the other guy, “He’s probably going to spit in it, he usually does.”

The horrified look on the blond’s face was enough for Jack, straightening up when Brock was practically throwing the lidded drink at him, “Get out.”

It was a good day for Rollins, and his drink wasn’t bad either. He may just visit Starbucks more often.

*****

Jack’s next appointment was a couple days later, Brock giving him a warning look before he left an hour earlier and he just gave him a wave as he watched him get into his car. He was having too much fun to stop, at least for a second time.

It was quiet when he walked in, a little after dinner time and Brock was wiping down tables lost in his own head not even noticing his presence until Jack dropped down at one of the chairs that was around the table Brock was currently cleaning with his order.

His friend gave him a look and blew out some annoyed huff of air while Jack politely gave him a smile before Brock shrugged at him.

“Look, I took what I could get. I needed somethin’ quick, been tryin’ not to dip into the old man’s money until I might have to and I’m pretty sure they’re gonna hire me on part time or full time as a trainer over at the gym but like I said before, it’s gonna take some time so I gotta pay for shit somehow while I’m waitin’.”

“I told you I could pay for things, you dropped everything for me Brock..” He pointed around at his own face, “This mug is scarred and half blind, the government’s payin’ for it.” Something sad crossed Brock’s eyes suddenly and Jack couldn’t have that, leaning in conspiratorially, “‘Sides, I always wanted to be a sugar daddy.” 

He just barely avoided the balled up towel sailing past his head, a loud snort from the counter telling Jack they had an audience. He pulled himself up to avoid Brock getting angrier because the guy hated being teased while strangers were laughing at his expense. For a man that could dish it out, he was oddly sensitive when someone out of the conversation randomly started laughing _at_ him without any context. 

Jack held his hands up, well as much as he could with a cup in hand, “I’m just saying is all..”

“Rollins,” Brock pursed his lips in annoyance taking a moment before he continued, “don’t come back here or I swear I’ll ram a breakfast bagel down yer throat.”

Jack gave him a wink before turning to head out, “Think about it.”

*****

The following week before Jack could even think about accosting his best friend at work, Brock threw a pack of coffee at him and told him to fuck off again before heading out the door.

It only encouraged Jack to bother him some more but paced out his time to next week, making coffee at home with the grounds he got hit in the head with, savoring it before appointments like he won some stupid argument. 

He kept the receipts from the two trips he did make, spying the ‘tell us how we did!’ comment and thought about showering Brock with compliments and making his life a living hell. He was sure sixteen year old managers would love that kind of stuff and would praise Brock accordingly, maybe put him up on a wall like an employee of the week. He laughed into his mug and finished off his drink, heading out the door and forgetting about it for now.

*****

The next time Jack arrived, Brock was nowhere in sight and he wondered if he quit, only to see the hipster with the retarded looking gauges grinning at him widely.

“He’s in the back doing a little stocktaking so if you still want your coffee, it’ll be by me again.”

A little disappointed, Jack kept his face stoic. He rather liked how Brock made it, he was actually surprised about it, “Just a black coffee.”

The guy nodded, grabbing a to-go cup before he approached the machines, “Man I don’t know how you’re friends with that guy. He’s got a chip on his shoulder, I mean imagine being stuck in an alley with him.”

Everything in Jack’s mind skidded to a halt, “What?”

A lid was put on his coffee and the blond shrugged, “Just saying. He’s kind of a _jerk_ , don’t you think?”

Paying for his coffee, Jack didn’t say anything, surveying too many people to bite back. He found a quiet seat to the side and sipped, waiting a good ten minutes just for good measure before he was entering the website through his phone and filling out the survey on the hipster asshole. He claimed his coffee order was fumbled and eyes were rolled when requesting it to be corrected, then heard him making a derogatory term under his breath when some African American’s walked in. 

Maybe Brock was a jerk, but he was _his_ jerk.

*****

Brock came home the next evening with his eyes locked on him as soon as he stepped inside. All he had been doing was sitting on the couch and Jack momentarily wondered if he was about to get punched, sometimes Brock didn’t supply reasons for that. Brock wasn’t heading to the shower immediately and he did come towards him only to crash down beside him, elbow hitting unintentionally into Jack’s thigh and their shoulders bumped in together. Rollins inhaled the scent of coffee and pastries and it was really nice, comforting.

“I have no idea what the hell you put on that comment card Jackie, but you got someone fuckin’ written up today.”

Brock sounded annoyed and he turned to look at him, only to see a slow smile spread across his face. 

“That lil fucker deserved it too.”

Jack smiled to himself, dropping his head to stare at his hands, “Shouldn’t be talking shit about you around me. I don’t get kids these days Rums, I don’t.”

Brock turned his head to look at him, brows slowly shifting upwards, “Jackie, you ain’t no old man yet despite what I say yanno. Yer still one of them ‘kids these days’ too.”

“Barely.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Brock leaned his head back, letting his legs stretch out as he folded his arms over his chest not bothering to move away so Jack had his space again, “Wake me up if I fall asleep, will ya?”

“You keep coming home smelling like coffee I may not be awake when you need me to be.”

Brock cracked an eye open to look at him, “Is that a sex joke?”

Laughing, Jack shook his head, “Not that I know of, I was saying you smell like coffee, which is nice? I guess?” It sounded awkward coming out of his mouth like that.

Snorting, Brock settled in for a nap again, “Jus don’t be tryin’ to lick me or nothin’ while I’m passed out.”

“Now _that’s_ a sex joke.”

“Fair’s fair, you goin’ on about bein’ a sugar daddy and all.”

Jack grinned, reaching over to squeeze Brock’s thigh firmly only to get a grunt of disapproval and his hand slapped away.

“Stop it.”

“..Are you still thinking about it?”

There was a long pause before Brock sighed, “Ya know, I got my own damn house to move back inta.”

Jack wanted to egg him on but said nothing, the last thing he really wanted was for Brock to actually move out, at least until he was ready to sell this place. Instead he playfully jabbed his elbow into Brock’s ribs before leaving him alone, going back to the television.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know he quit about a week later in [style](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlclUwqDo3s) :P


	14. Chapter 32 - A quiet night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock is a bit put out when Bucky changes plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is during ch.32 so it would make more sense reading it after that chapter and the on going saga that is Hydra Husbands.

“Stupid fuckin’ Rogers!”

Jack couldn’t help but flinch a little at Brock’s voice booming out in the middle of the living room, mostly just out of how loud it was. It wasn’t surprising to show up just to say something that triggered Brock’s temper tantrums and this time around he was asking if Bucky was here yet. Apparently between work and arriving to Brock’s, Bucky changed plans and rescheduled because Steve showed up to pick him up from the airport. Personally he thought it was a positive route, it meant Bucky was talking more to him, taking his advice to heart and because Steve had done nothing wrong, it was good they were spending some much needed time together. Plus after the phone call between the two of them he worried how Bucky would react seeing Steve, if they were going out, he was working through it. He was glad.

What he wasn’t enjoying was Brock storming around in circles like a wound up toy as Jack sat himself down feeling tired just watching him. He put some take out in the kitchen, and a couple of things he grabbed on the way rolling his eyes in there before he joined him.

“Obviously it’s too late to get angry about it so why are you? It’s already done Brock,” He patted the seat beside him knowing it probably would only antagonize him but he tried anyway. “You should relax and quit yelling, I can get us some dinner.”

“I ain’t yellin!” Brock snapped out as he turned on him and Jack bit back the urge to automatically bite back. He knew there wouldn’t be a point for that right now and their levels of asshole stubbornness would have only escalated to a blow out. He came over to have a quiet evening with Brock, not get into a shouting match with him.

“Fine then, whatever you say. Stop not yelling and have a seat,” Jack sighed, trying not to shake his head lest he want another argument started. He leaned against the back of the couch allowing his head to tilt as he closed his eyes. He had to stay an extra couple of hours to get some paperwork done so he could avoid it tomorrow, he really just wanted to forget today. 

“I’m jus talkin’ out loud Jackie, can’t a man even do that or you got a problem with it?” 

He could tell Brock was inches from him, almost looming over like he was waiting for a challenge and Jack said nothing. 

Frustrated, Brock sighed at him, presence shifting and something was said under his breath as he stepped away from him, pacing back around the coffee table again, “It jus ain’t a fair thing yanno. He made plans with us first.”

If Jack was in the mood to get lectured for smiling, he would because he could easily pick up the childish tone in Brock’s voice. He was _jealous_ of Steve getting Bucky’s attention as if he was too busy to see Bucky any other day, as if Bucky didn’t already think the world of him, as if Bucky would choose Steve over Brock. He almost laughed at the mere idea.

“It was a last minute change yeah,” Jack agreed, “But there’s always next time. Tomorrow even.”

“Don’t care about next time, haven’t seen the Kid all damn weekend and we left kinda rocky. I wanted him to come over and spend a little time with me.”

Jack’s brows went up, “And what the fuck am I? Chopped liver?”

“Nah you ain’t, jus this stupid asshole- ” Brock’s face twisted in disgust, dropping his whole entire body on the couch, letting his head rest on Jack’s lap. “Jus wanna see him is all. I know he ain’t mad or nothin’, I just missed ‘im. There was a time he woulda seen us before someone else.”

“Mhm.” Jack hummed out, confirming that he was listening, fingers brushing through black hair. He pondered about how to respond without it sounding like he was patronizing Brock. “I know you wanna see him, I know he’s like your baby but you gotta let him do what makes him happy even if it ain’t gonna make you happy. You’re more than a father to him than his own, he’ll never forget that but he’s trying to repair things with Steve too at his own pace. If the Kid wants to go spend a dinner with him you can’t flip a shit. How’re you gonna be when you got your own kids huh Rums? Gonna lock ‘em up in the closet?”

Brock glanced up at him, making a face, “Don’t think I’d ever be havin’ kids, too much of a damn headache.”

Prodding, Jack let his fingers gently massage Brock’s scalp, “Humor me.”

“I jus, nah I ain’t sayin’ I wanna lock ‘em up but I’d worry bout ‘em for sure. I jus keep worryin’ Rogers is gonna turn into somethin’ he says he ain’t and I don’t want Buck gettin’ hurt. You know that.” Brock stopped talking, shoulders relaxing as his eyes closed to Jack’s fingers.

“I wanna tell you something Brock. You know I get a feeling for people. With Pierce, _both of them_ , never a good feeling. Always felt off, especially with Alex. You though, you liked him. Buck did too so I kept my mouth shut and if you all needed me I was there for you but Rogers ain’t like that. I get that he’s an idiot sometimes, jumps the gun and if you piss him off he’s got a temper comparable to yours, but bad feelings? Nah. I never get that off him. He stares at Buck like that kid is something special, something out of his grasp that he should aim for but may never get and you know what?”

Brock’s lips were pressed so tight they were going white but he looked up at Jack for the answer.

“Steve seems to be okay with that. All he asks for is that Bucky be in his company, for Buck to talk to him and be friends. He’ll fight the world for him, like you.”

“Don’t think he could ever be like me.” Brock finally grumped out, mouth screwed up in a childish pout complete with angry ornery brows.

“Yeah true, he’d have to have a whole lumber yard stuck up his ass before he could- ” His hand pressed hard into Brock’s shoulder before he could scramble to sit up, his other pressing against his sternum giving him a smirk, “ -But also because no one cares about Buck like you do.”

They stared at each other a long moment, Brock easing down and molding his neck against Jack’s thigh, “Lucky I love ya Jackie..”

Jack smiled as he looked out the window, fingers delicately making their way through rich dark hair that was exceptionally soft when Brock didn’t have any product in it. He could spend a Sunday doing this if Brock let him. “I know.”

He also knew if he kept this up Brock would fall asleep and let himself do it. He’d grown up knowing what buttons he could push to make him angry and which ones could make him as docile as a lazy fat cat. Jack had lost count on how many times he had used the tactic to get him to simmer down, let his best friend fall asleep on him just to appease an oncoming headache or just to avoid watching him go on and on in his ranting and raving. It was good for Brock even if it meant Jack was left with bad television or a book he didn’t feel like reading again so soon. Nowadays he did it more for himself, a need to be affectionate when he could disguise it with something he always did like now, carrying on until he was noticing eyes slowly sinking closed and Brock’s inane chatter slowing down. 

Lightly nudging him with his thigh to get him to sit up, he refused to smile when Brock made a noise of protest pulling him up with him before leading him towards the kitchen by the shoulders, “Now quit fussing, I brought you that wine you wanted to try out.”

Interest piqued, Brock raised his brows, “Wine and Chinese food? Are ya goin’ fer a trailer trash level wine and dine?”

Jack shrugged, “If the shit was boxed maybe, but your stuff was pricey enough for me to ask for a receipt. I can leave out the wine and you can have it later if you like.”

Brock thought about it for a moment, “Are ya gonna drink it with me?”

Taking the food out of the paper bag and popping off the top of one of the containers, Jack slid it to the side moving on to the next one, not looking up, “Sure if you want me to drink it with you. You know I don’t really get wine.”

Scoffing in agreement, Brock grabbed some plates, “Because you and Buck always gotta drink vodka like it’s goin’ outta style and yeah, Jackie..drink it with me.”

Jack looked up towards where Brock was, watching him rifling through the cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses, a smile reaching his lips and avoiding Brock catching him as he dropped his head forward again to get the next container opened, “Buck’s the one that drinks it like it’s going outta style, I just drink it and yeah sure then. I’ll always drink with you Rums.”


	15. Brock's road to fitness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reply to a question sent to me about how Brock got into boxing. *jazz hands*

In Brock’s defense, he wasn’t used to Jack being in his bed before class started. Sometimes they gamed in the afternoon at his place if they didn’t go out or go to his own house so knocking over the game controllers when his foot snagged on them as he fought with his jeans to get them on was absolutely Rollins’ fault.

“Is this how you always are when you have guests?” 

Brock gave him a glare, turning his back to him as he tried one more small hop while sucking in some more air in an attempt to get the ends of his jeans together. 

“Just give up already and wear your sweats.” Jack grumbled, throwing a pillow at him.

It bounced off Rumlow’s ass and he gave Jack a dirty look through the mirror, his best friend laying around on his stomach with the covers pooled around his waist and amusement in his eyes. 

“Yeah fuck you. They _fit_ , just.” He wiggled a little and prayed Jack wasn’t looking at his butt, why would he anyway but then he could be because he was an asshole like that. This time the button was close enough to tuck into the hole, leaning back with his hips pressed out to get his fly up was the cherry on top. He stared at himself and frowned because muffin tops were definitely not attractive. At least not on him.

“Seriously Rums,” Jack yawned lazily rolling over to turn his back to him, blanket falling away somewhere, long shorts stupidly low and back muscles showing off, “Just wear your sweats, half the school wears sweats. Half your football team will be wearing personalized track suits with the school logo and your last names on the ass when all that shit gets finalized.”

Brock watched him through the reflection again and rolled his eyes because _of course_ Jack could say those things. He was string bean Larry until he left for high school two years before him and suddenly with the lack of visits switching to more phone calls and weekenders, Rumlow somehow missed his best friend’s growth spurt on top of his already long body and the muscles that apparently came delivered in the mail. While Brock was here, trying to fight with his blue jeans and make sure he could breathe at the same time. 

He still had his baby fat; rounded cheeks, softened thighs and stupid love handles. He just joined the football team and worked out when he could but he only seemed to be getting bigger instead of leaner. Okay so he was also a stress eater and didn’t cope well with Jack going to another school without him for the last two years, so sue him. It wasn’t his fault when they did get to hang out they both ate way too much junk and barely left the house. They had so many movies and games to catch up on, it took top priority and when Bucky and company called them over, it was rude to say no to Imogen and her brownies..no way he was going to decline her.

Everything was different now though. He pulled a black Black Flag t-shirt over his head and turned sideways with a handful of material in his fist to pull at it and cringe at the belly fat pressing against it. It wasn’t a lot but it still looked horrendous. He was eating better, or starting to, Imogen still fixed him lunches even if he had to ride his bike the other way to pick them up but then Bucky could usually convince his driver to drop him by the elementary school so he had a shorter distance to get his school and he asked her to forego cookies and pudding cups like she would usually pack. He was sure she could read his mind, he would find carrot sticks or something equally as healthy with a small note of encouragement or just a smiley face after that. 

He knew it was only the first week of high school and he shouldn’t expect a dramatic change right away, to his body at least, he knew he wasn’t going to become thin overnight but the girls were taller than him and Jack just called him a late bloomer. He hated the term, he hated girls standing before him with their chests practically in his face like he didn’t exist just to talk to Jack, he hated the weird looks from the friends Rollins had already made at the school. He just wanted to not be fat, hopefully grow taller and play some football.

An arm rested against his shoulder and he startled, Jack half awake and leaning forward behind him trying to fix his hair in the mirror, “You’re getting way too obsessed with your body.”

He snorted, trying to shoulder his best friend back, “Easy for you to fuckin’ say, even back then you could eat a whole pizza and no one would care because you didn’t put on any weight. _Now_ you eat 'em and somehow ya get magical muscles.”

Laughing suddenly, Jack hugged his neck, pressing in against the entirely of his body before he gave him a quick kiss against his head because he was a jerk and did stupid things like that when he adored him and he was way too sappy, the loser.

Rollins pulled off and headed towards the bathroom in the hall, “I gotta shower before we leave and Rums, change your sheets man, they stink like you don’t _ever_ wash them.”

Scowling, Brock watched him amble on, “No one asked you to come sleep over Rawls!”

There was no reply and the bathroom door slammed closed. Brock went back to the mirror and grabbed a handful of his stomach fat, he had to figure out an alternative way to work out and fast.


	16. The first time he tries to jog again, it starts to rain.

“Didja have fun in the rain?”

Jack gave him a glare, Brock laid out on the couch and watching some classic boxing match from the eighties, the television randomly flickering in relation to the heavy downpour happening outside, the roof of his parents place distributing the thunderous sound of beating rain into the house and Brock had to put the volume up a little higher to hear what the announcers were saying. 

He wasn’t sure if the house’s heat was too low or if he was just that cold, peeling his wet coat off and feeling the water drip off his hair and roll down the back of his neck and underneath his shirt wincing a little in annoyance. 

“Yeah I did, was a good run.”

He was lying. He was miserable, sore and tired. His leg was acting up because Brock and his physical therapists both said to stop pushing himself but he was going batshit crazy just sitting inside. It only got worse when he mentioned he may go for a run earlier and Brock started up about him slipping and getting hurt when the rain just began, treating him like he was a fucking infant. He had been thinking about quitting the idea to avoid getting wet but he really needed an hour or something without Rumlow on his ass.

Finally lifting his eyes from the television to look over at him, Brock smirked lowly, “What you do, swim back?”

“The same way I went, by foot, smartass. I ran like I said I was gonna do.” Kicking off his runners, his socks were soaked all the way through, sighing under his breath as he made his way to the stairs. There was some kind of draft coming from somewhere and he was too cold to go looking for it.

Jack ignored the pain his leg was giving him, a hand running over his shoulder absently after peeling off his wet clothes and standing around in his boxers. He gave himself a second or two, closing his eyes briefly as he tried warding away the ice water chill in his veins that was sinking deep into his bones. 

He rummaged through his drawer and pulled out his thickest pair of grey sweatpants, pulling them on with one of his black t-shirts and then as he looked around, thrown over the top of his writing desk was Brock’s stupid forest green gym hoodie that he kept leaving in his bedroom because God knows why. He pulled that on as well, snug around his body and a little shorter than what he was used to but he survived. 

As he left his room, his nose tingled a little and he was sniffling before he hit the stairs again, rubbing a knuckle at the tip of it but more focused on the poor circulation in his hands and how he felt like he was sitting naked in a refrigerator instead of wearing thick layers that should have been keeping his body heat trapped in.

It took a second for him to notice it but he picked up the sound of firewood crackling and he walked into the living room just to see the old fireplace lit up and happily lapping and burning around the first new logs that were set inside. It filled the grey overcast looking room in oranges and reds, dancing around Brock who didn’t seem like he had even moved an inch, still watching the boxing match with his legs up and a bowl of mixed nuts on his stomach.

Pushing the old recliner closer to the fire, Jack turned it at an angle so it was closer to facing the flames than the television. He stepped towards the bookshelf and grabbed one of his books, getting himself settled into the tired and worn chair when he felt a nudge to his ankle with Brock’s foot.

“Here jackass.”

Jack looked up to find him holding out a large mug of what looked like tea considering there was a label dangling off the string to the side. For a second he hesitated, wondering if his best friend laced it with benzo’s so he wouldn’t take off for a run again. This did all start because Brock didn’t think he should go out on his own in case he hurt himself and this would be a great, _albeit illegal_ , way to keep him inside. It was warm though and Jack needed anything that would take the chill out, accepting it carefully and giving him a small smile and a grateful nod, hands wrapping around the cup to soak it all in.

Brock looked a little offended like he had read Jack’s mind and Jack was kind of curious about that gift actually because they both tended to have non-verbal conversations at times and sometimes knew what the other was thinking or wanted before it was said. His friend said nothing about it and returned back to the couch, slumping like he always did and watching the fight again. 

Taking a sip of black tea, his free hand rubbed along his thigh after resting his book on the arm of the chair, a dull throb carrying through the entirety of his leg and up his side. His elbow accidentally bumped into his book and it fell to the floor with a heavy thud, the fire cracking and popping loudly and Jack watched it as he soaked in as much warmth as it could offer right then, setting his mug down on the small side table he moved next to the recliner.

“Fuckin’ Christ Jack, how can I watch the damn prizefight if you’re gonna keep movin’ and fussin’ around over there!”

Jack watched the brunette stomp off like an angry five year old and all Rollins could do was shrug, he wasn’t in a mood to go after him and apologize for whatever the fuck he did. He just wanted some peace and to relax-

A heavy quilt was thrown on his lap, just barely missing the corner of it trying to slap him in the face and he looked up to see Brock at the side, a hand aggressively shoving him to lean forward.

“What the fuck Brock, what are you- ?”

Brock sat himself down on the arm of the recliner and there was a flash of a towel before he was under it and being smothered, hands vigorously dragging through his hair. It wasn’t rough or violent, it was more thorough and efficient, Rumlow lightly grumbling to himself though the towel was muffling it all out, a corner of it sweeping across the back of his neck and picking up the wet patches where the water failed to go down his shirt once again. 

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid, wanna go outside but can’t even dry your damn hair, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with _you_?!” Jack managed to sputter out without getting a mouthful of cotton blend and shifting forward a little when Brock was leaning in more. 

Somehow through the struggle of Jack trying to raise his arms and Brock trying to attack him with a towel, his best friend ended up tucked behind him and Jack was barely hanging off the mouth of the chair. Rollins only fought the urge to lean back against Brock until the fight was pretty much towel dried out of him and he gave up, slumping back against the solid weight of Brock’s chest. He was too tired to argue and tell him to get the hell out of his chair and he was warm, legs stretched out and rested at either side of Jack’s hips which only made him feel snug. 

Brock stopped swearing at him, but he was still making random ‘ _you’re a dick_ ’ noises under his breath, trying to dry his hair in batches and handling him with stupidly nice care. Rollins let himself ease into giving in to him, towel thrown off to the floor and one rough worn hand brushing through his hair lightly to make sure it was Rumlow approved to be dry enough. The gesture in itself was making Jack want to fall apart and he forced himself not to lean into it, absently cursing at his friend in his head and suddenly he felt a quick painful flick of a finger to his ear.

“Shuddap.” 

Like Jack said, some weird mind reading abilities they shared.

Feeling his lids getting heavy, Jack almost missed the hand leaving his hair and soon the quilt in his lap was being unfolded, Brock’s arms pressed tight to each side of his ribs as he was reaching past him and draped the blanket over the both of them efficiently bundling Jack in a warm nest of clothing, a quilt and one grumpy best friend.

His eyes were almost closed when he felt Brock shift again behind him and pull the side lever for the front to raise up and the backrest to tilt back. Brock stretched his legs wider just to accommodate him as he leaned back and a hand directed Jack to follow him into it so effectively he was pretty much laying on Brock, his head finally falling back and his body in enough of a clumsy slump to stretch his legs across the footrest and Rumlow’s shoulder turned into his pillow.

Jack’s body was comfortable and bundled warm, eyes completely closing and absently feeling a hand resting against his chest, patting him lightly.

“Thanks Brock.”

He felt fingers brush some hair off his forehead, “Shut up stupid. Gonna get yourself sick actin’ like this next time.”

Jack smiled, slipping away into a gentle doze, the hand on his chest making soft gentle circles against the fabric of the hoodie, his other hand slipping under Jack’s arm and hugging him tight. Just before Rollins passed out completely, he felt Brock lean close by his ear.

“You owe me Taco Bell for this.”

Jack grinned wider, nodding sleepily against Brock’s shoulder before he let himself fall asleep.


	17. Chapter 35 - Sunday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after ch.35. (Technically it's probably overlapping the start of ch. 36 but it's fine. XD)

Standing in the kitchen and humming roughly under his breath, Brock turned over the strips of bacon in the pan. Sunday morning sat staring at him while the sunshine glittered over the snow like tiny diamonds and everything was still covered thick, a fresh layer over the old but the storm had passed on after a couple of days and despite the ongoing visits of snowfall it was much more manageable than when it was here. 

Sunday was also his rest day, no work and just a time to stay in if he so chose. To work over hangovers, kick out strangers or maybe just watch a movie. Jack would usually stop by at some point and together they would go to Nat’s for dinner after unless of course he had tourney’s to accompany students to. Not today though, today he could make bacon, eat too much of it and lounge on the couch.

That and, well, Jack wasn’t going to drop by today.

He turned his head partially when Jack lumbered into the kitchen only half awake and pawing for the half empty mug of Brock’s coffee and dumping it into the sink to refill it with a new serving.

“Hey. Asshole. I’m fuckin’ right here, coulda just found a new cup.”

Jack took a sip, leaning his back against the counter and savoring before he took another one eventually holding the mug before him and a sleepy soft smirk spread across his lips, “I like this mug.” 

“Dick.” Brock muttered out, turning back to the bacon to take it out over a paper towel covered plate not really mad but it was the principle of it. 

Moving around, Jack was opening a cabinet and closing it, doing something Brock ignored while he cleared the pan and added the rest of the bacon. A few seconds later a cup sat next to the stove, the grumpy cat mug Bucky had bought for him a couple years ago that said No above its head. Fresh coffee with cream and sugar had been added inside and Brock didn’t say anything despite the warm feeling in his belly that made it a little hard to breathe.

Jack was padding out of the kitchen with his misappropriated mug and Brock stole a glance back, feet bare and thick sweatpants. He was wearing a painfully tight t-shirt, back muscles shifting under the material and Brock could only stare. He had seem millions of backs at work, a lot of them shirtless or in tank tops and none of them even clicked for him. Jack though, he wanted to touch him and it was such a long while that he even had any sort of thought like that as if he self corrected himself to look at women how straight guys should look at women when really all he wanted to do was explore his best friend’s back like a creep. 

He shook himself out of it and went back to the food, turning it over and hearing the television go on. He kind of wished Jack was back in the kitchen, around him and in his space nagging him about random shit or whatnot but he was also afraid of asking for more of something. If Rollins was anything, he was right about his moods even if he was making jokes about it, he knew asking for more may backfire and all jack was trying to do was give him the space to approach him and talk about things when he was ready to. Still, he missed Jack and being in his space without thinking about what it meant for them or just having some level of physical contact. They had some, Jack still held him in bed but through the night he would back off from time to time and it was difficult at moments. He itched for something more. 

The second batch of bacon cooked faster because of the heat already steady, stepping out of his head to add it to the plate and check on where Jack was in case he had decided to hit the shower. Instead he saw him from the top of the stairs slipping on boots over his sleep clothes and his winter coat, unlocking the front door. Brock took a sip from his new mug and followed along, loitering at the doorway while Jack was checking the mailbox next to it and leafing through a couple of coupon flyers and a bank statement.

“Anythin’ good?”

“Nah, mostly recycle stuff.” He held it out for Brock to take, “Wasn’t sure if you remembered to check it yesterday and figured I should while taking a look at the driveway. See if I need to- ”

Brock snatched the mail and gave Jack a glare, “Stop your ass right there.”

He pulled Jack inside and slammed the door closed, locking it immediately before he was ushering Rollins back upstairs once he took off his boots.

“Brock, what?”

Jack held up his hands and followed silent gestures, reaching the top in confusion and sitting on the couch when he was pushed that way.

Brock shook his head, “You ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout shovelin’ the snow. Your back ain’t goin’ twitchy and that’s good, don’t make it fuckin’ worse.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jack leaned against the couch cushions, “You don’t know that and how’re we gonna get out if one of us don’t clear it? If that stuff gets hard it’s gonna be a bitch.”

Mouth forming a firm line, Brock pointed at him accusingly, “Don’t even think about that shit Rollins or I’ll- ”

“Or you’ll what? We have to clear it, Brock. Not like you wanna miss dinner tonight, it’ll be light and easy.”

Parking himself down, Brock shook his head, “I’ll get it a little after breakfast, actin’ like it’s a state of emergency or somethin’.” 

“Might be. I’m not disabled.”

“And thank God for that!” Brock snapped back, raising his arm slightly and coffee spilled onto his pant leg, cursing to himself as he set the cup down on the coffee table, “Shit. And yer actin’ like you gotta break yerself.”

“Oh shut up. I just wanted to help.” Jack griped out as he reached for a napkin, blotting at the stain against the top of Brock’s thigh near his knee. 

Brock only relaxed, staring at him dabbing at the stain and touching him no matter how innocent it was. He knew what Jack said and he knew he was only trying to help too except he wasn’t even thinking about shoveling snow anymore, all he thought about was _Jack_. 

He grabbed at his wrist instead to stop him, his other hand fisting around that stupid tight white t-shirt he was wearing and pulled him in to kiss him, hard and fast.

Everything was left forgotten; bacon was getting cold and they were both hungry he knew but Brock didn’t much care, a thrill of excitement thrumming under his skin because he was kissing Jack and it was just like when he kissed him the other evening to prove he wasn’t full of shit. He just fucking wanted to just like now, just like while they were at Nat’s hiding out from the storm and how he wanted to curl up in Jack’s warmth and sleep how he was so used to but instead kept his hands to himself in his own sleeping bag and watched him sleep. 

Jack’s lips were warm despite the thin layer of cold on his skin from outside, so were his fingers that at the moment had come up in surprise and were most likely ready to push him off and tell him to stop. Instead he touched his cheeks tentatively and Brock felt himself melt into it because he didn’t want to stop. He could feel his heart ready to burst out of his chest from beating so quickly and deafening in his ears, he wanted more of Jack kissing him, a lot more of it and he pulled him roughly closer, Jack’s weight bringing them both down against the couch.

Brock couldn’t help himself but laugh into their kiss when Jack grunted at the shift, one hand awkwardly coming away to press into the furniture and balance his weight out. He could feel his mouth forming a smile too, kissing him with a bit more enthusiasm and maybe a little sloppily in his eagerness but either way Brock was good with it. He knew he wasn’t an expert himself, face burning a little from the way Rollins’ stubble rubbed into him while his hand was hotter than he expected as it slid down his side.

His own hand came up to hook around the back of Jack’s neck to anchor him there and when he drew away to get some air, Jack appreciated the break as well even if he hovered and left a few small kisses along Brock’s jaw since he couldn’t help himself.

Eventually he stopped as well, resting his forehead against Brock’s shoulder as he tried to calm his breathing down, “Sorry, shoulda quit when you did.”

“S’fine.” Brock let out, dropping his head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

He felt dizzy and weird but not in a bad way, Jack feeling solid and comforting over him, tucked between his legs, arms slipping around Brock’s middle and they only laid there together, Brock’s fingers curving up off his neck and sliding into Jack’s hair. He didn’t miss the way it made Jack shiver involuntarily, his face tucking against his neck and Brock his heart eased at the way Jack breathed against his skin. 

“We coulda been makin’ out like this for awhile, I think I’m startin’ to like havin’ ya around.” 

Jack choked back a laugh against Brock’s neck, shaking his head as much as he really could. 

They lingered in silence for a few seconds while Brock felt Jack’s heart beating against both of their chests and he didn’t comment on it, instead smiling a little fond as he tangled his fingers in dark hair and tugged just a tiny bit to demand another kiss without needing to ask.

Lifting his head, Jack looked at him and it was different or maybe Brock just wasn’t paying attention, either way he leaned down and kissed him again and that was _definitely_ different. It was genuine and sweet. It made Brock reach for him with his free hand and press his palm against Jack’s back to keep him there forever. It was slow and for now it was all Brock really wanted, his mind wandering and his body responding in ways he really didn’t want to deal with right then. He just wanted to stay like this, laid out on their lazy Sunday with Jack as his company.


	18. Chapter 35 - Early Monday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some spice with a dash of sweet for these dummies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after ch.35, better to read the chap before this if you're following the flow of their relationship. (Technically it's probably overlapping the start of ch. 36 but whatever lol)

Jack woke up with a start, night still with him and his mind was confused, replaying the dream he was having in bits and pieces despite not registering a lot. The air was cold against his clammy skin, a crack of the window reminding him he had forgotten about how stuffy he was feeling and that Brock had done it to ease the temperature without thinking twice.

Brock was currently under the blankets while Jack wasn’t, though he had his back against his chest, their legs tangled together. A shift of his arm found he was gripping at Brock’s hip a bit too tight not that there were any protests from him knowing he would have gotten a hard elbow into his ribs if Jack was crushing his arm or something else absentmindedly.

As his senses became further aware, Jack realized more and more about things, like how _too_ close he was against Brock and that just maybe he might be getting a little too familiar with pressing himself against Brock’s ass. It also seemed like the moment Jack picked up on what was going on, Brock’s groggy voice echoed through the room. 

“Jack?”

He shifted slightly and Jack could only wince.

Brock drew in a sharp breath, shifting again and Jack tightened his grip. “Stop wiggling.” 

Because Brock never really listened, he pressed in, grinding his ass as his head leaned back, “Why’s this feel good?” 

If the soft sleepy way Brock sounded was any indication of things happening and he was somewhat awake, Jack was still wary despite wanting what he wanted, smoothing his fingers along his hip tucking his face against the crook of Brock’s neck. “You like anything that makes you feel good.” He took a chance and pressed a few small kisses along his neck, fingers gliding along across Brock’s stomach, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop..” 

“Don’t fuckin’ stop.” Brock ordered, voice still fuzzy but he was clear about what he wanted, breathing coming out in ragged breaths while he rubbed into him. 

Jack splayed his hand. exploring and touching Brock wherever he could, under his shirt, over his arms and down along his thigh. He ended up resting it at his chest, heart beating faster through his skin like it was ready to burst out of him.

“I should stop, _God_ we should stop.” Jack mumbled as he nosed into Brock’s hair, shifting his hips in slow lazy movements because he just couldn’t help himself especially with Brock encouraging him. 

Only arching in, Brock swallowed thickly, his hand blindly reaching back to keep Jack in place and hold him there, “Dunno what yer doin’ to me, Jackie.” 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh, dropping his head against Brock’s shoulder, the weird nervous energy that left him unsure of doing anything like this around him subsiding a little though he was still hit with an overwhelming urge to quit holding back. Really though, he had over twenty years of knowing when Brock was truly wanting something and when he really did not, and this time around Jack wasn’t going to second guess him despite thoughts being drowned out that he should probably not encourage things of the sexual nature with Brock right then.

He couldn’t fight his own urges though, moving his head to kiss Brock behind his ear while his hand moved down between his legs, slipping past the waistband of his friend’s sweats where he found him to be just as hard as he was. Although he was slightly awaiting a negative reaction to being touched there, Brock only did the opposite, groaning receptively to the hand wrapped around him and jerking his hips forward.

“Shh, _easy there_. I got you..” He murmured, peppering kisses along Brock’s jaw as he felt him press a hand against the mattress and lift himself a bit. Instinctually Jack took the chance to slip his other arm around and brace Brock to him while he stroked him off. 

It was surprising how docile Brock suddenly became, moaning into the pillow he had his head on almost like he was suddenly embarrassed but not enough to ask for it to stop. It wasn’t helping Jack any as Brock’s ass continued to rub into him even though he knew it wasn’t enough to get him off. It was fine either way while he got to make Brock feel good which in the end was really what he wanted.

Brock made small, pained noises at the back of his throat when his entire body suddenly tightened like a pulled bow string, signs all too obvious when he came hard inside his sweats. His entire body trembled against Jack’s afterwards, panting in silence and once he eased him out of his orgasm Jack slipped his hand out awaiting the aftermath of Brock’s senses coming back online.

He didn’t yell though, what Brock did was gather his wits about him and rolled over to his other side, licking his lips as he gave Jack a long look before kissing him breathless. It was a little off but restless and needy and Jack kissed him back, slipping his tongue inside his mouth the moment Brock allowed him to, a hand pressing against his chest to lay back onto the sheets.

Brock only stared in silence a few seconds, barely visible dawn giving him a view of what exactly was rubbing against him and he boldly took a closer view by hooking his fingers around the elastic of Jack’s sweats and boxers, carefully pulling them down while Jack could only comply with a lift of his hips in frozen puzzlement. 

“Christ Jackie, you’re fuckin’ _big_.” 

Jack wasn’t sure what he expected, it was just not _that_ , his nerves kicking into high gear as he laid there vulnerable and anxious. “You’ve seen me naked numerous times.” 

Brock glanced back up to meet his gaze, lowering his voice, “I make you do that?”

Jack shrugged and nodded, trying to hide himself in casual bravado, “Yeah. You do that to me. It’s..kinda easy when I think about you, but I don’t expect you to- ” 

Brock leaned in and kissed him again, running his hand down Jack’s chest feeling him out, fingers brushing along his cock. Jack startled a little over it, visibly surprised as his hands twitched to _do something_ but he forced them to stay at his sides. He was still hyper aware and processing what exactly was happening between them, Brock’s thumb swiping over the head and Jack faintly moaned into his mouth.

The feedback seemed to spur Brock to do more, encouraged to wrap his hand around and stroke him in slow shallow movements, adding a twist underneath the head as Jack couldn’t help the way his hips jerked upwards for more while he draped the back of his wrist across his eyes. He tried his best to keep quiet despite the small noises of his breathing coming out louder with a mix of sighs.

For Brock this was all new territory and thinking about it, it was for Jack too if what he said about just kissing someone was exactly what went on. He knew Rollins had done things with girls, gone all the way with some so he was sure he’d been touched there but he felt better that this was probably different from a girl handling him and Brock kind of found comfort in knowing that they were each other’s firsts together for things between two guys. 

When Jack seemed to be covering his eyes, Brock found it easier to be able to stare at his dick. True, it wasn’t the first time obviously but it was a moment he could really look especially fully hard while his head was still reeling from the way Jack had touched him. It was strange, feeling another man like this even if it was Jack; he’d only had his to handle before that but he was pretty into it. Jack was bigger and thicker than him, but despite the comparison it wasn’t as foreign as he thought, not that he had tons of moments to think about touching Jack’s cock, impressed over how his fingers barely managed to meet around the girth of it. It didn’t help how hot he was feeling just from the way Jack was straining to keep his noises from coming out, pride flaring up inside of him.

“You like that, Jackie?” He squeezed him a little to get him to respond.

Jack gasped. “Fuck, Brock.”

Brock tightened his grip slightly, picking up the pace just enough that he knew on himself was a bit of a torment. To his amazement Jack seemed to react similarly, his restricted pants of breath shifting to groans that shot straight through Brock. If he hadn’t just cum, he was pretty sure that would have gotten him going, not entirely sure how he had been sleeping next to this guy randomly for over twenty years and never got to hear him like this. He wasn’t sure how to classify himself sexually but Jack was definitely who he wanted his entire life.

He rubbed at the head of Jack’s cock with his thumb, smearing around the precum gathering there, his eyes venturing back to watch Jack’s reaction just as he was biting down at his lip.

“Jack.” 

It took a second before Jack’s arm moved away and their eyes met, finally shifting to move his arm around Brock, pulling him up a bit to catch his mouth, kissing him deeply as his other hand caressed his jaw, pulling away to nudge gently at his nose and find some air, “Not gonna last Brock..” 

“Then come on, Jackie,” Brock whispered against his lips. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

“Ah _fuck_..” Jack ground out, trying to keep himself quiet despite what Brock wanted right then. He had ample time to test out how loud he could make Jack go later, cock pulsing in his hand as Jack came across his t-shirt and Brock stroked him through it with practised ease, finally pulling his hand away when he heard a pained sound of oversensitivity. 

It was different yet so familiar, Jack only taking a few longing seconds before sitting up to pull off his shirt and tug his sweats back up, rolling out of the bed in silence to disappear into the bathroom. Brock laid back as he listened to the tap running, too busy analyzing to really pay much attention to things and soon after Jack came back and laid in beside him, a warm washcloth running over the hand Brock used to jerk him off, forgetting it was dirty in the first place. He forced himself to get up after and change despite how lazy he felt before he laid back down beside Jack not sure of what to say.

The cloth was tossed on the floor beside where the shirt was, both ending up staring at each under the cloak of almost darkness, neither knowing what to say to the other after that while Jack was still slowly trying to regulate his breathing and Brock was attempting to make sense of how worked up he got over touching Jack. That Jack really did respond to him and that he himself responded to Jack in a way he definitely never thought he was ready for so quickly.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

Brock shook his head, “Shut the hell up, actin’ like I wasn’t jus rubbin’ my ass all over your dick like a needy whore at the start of all that.”

He heard Jack inhale sharply and they only stared, a smug smirk across Brock’s lips because what the hell did he really have to hide with Jack? “I _liked_ what you were doin’, Jackie. I jus never saw it comin’ like that, explorin’ like we were. It was..somethin’..”

Huffing out a laugh, Jack shook his head as he dropped it against the pillow. Brock reached out, a hand roaming over bare chest as he pulled him in and they found each other’s lips. 

“That and, I kinda like when you do stuff to take charge.” He admitted against Jack’s mouth when they had a second to breath. 

There was a pleased rumble in Jack’s chest Brock had never really heard before, he had at random points but it was very rare and only when it was just them and Brock was close enough to feel it more than hear it. He always mentally joked it made him kind of seem like a big cat, a tiger or something of that relation and when he thought about it more he realized it was only for him. He hadn’t felt something like this, realizing things about himself and about Rollins, the way his large hand held him close but left him open for escape not that Brock wanted to. He was too busy lingering in the state of drunkenness he was feeling, a sensation he wasn’t used to with anyone and never let it get far enough where he even felt it around Jack. It was that something that yearned for him in an addictive kind of way, a longing too he’d felt only once before, when Jack was hurt coming back to him from overseas. 

His hand squeezed Rollins’ shoulder as he kept him close, kissing him again and Jack settled in obediently like he always did, tasting him and wanting more. He could feel him relax a bit more, worry ease away and warm large hands braced against his back, Brock himself loosening immediately because no matter what secrets they had recently unleashed, he was never shy to reveal how Jack’s touch was something he always needed.

“Jackie..” Brock mumbled out but had nothing else to provide, tilting his head so he could kiss him again considering it was something he was really getting into on a normal basis.

Jack easily went, watching Brock with a careful gaze and they kissed for a long while, slow like they had nothing better to do. Small kisses ventured in at first accompanied with gentle touches and Brock was alright with the way Jack handled him seemingly as fragile as kitten despite knowing he didn’t need to. It was a nice sensation either way, one he allowed with him always, just today it was more significant for both of them.

After a few more minutes, Brock pulled away as a laugh slipped out of him, stupid and fond. Jack chuckled along as Brock reached up and touched the scar across his jaw, “We’re so stupid.”

Smirking at his words, Jack nodded as he moved his hand down to grip at Brock’s hip, pressing a more forceful kiss to his mouth, “Yeah but I love you anyway.”


End file.
